


Roam Around Around Around

by Marks



Category: Young Veins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-19
Updated: 2010-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Jon stayed in Chicago and got a job like regular people do. While he's in New York seeing Tom's band, he meets a strange guy with an acoustic guitar and a tendency to wander. A story about road trips across America, Jon finding himself, and the weird stuff someone does when infatuated with Ryan Ross.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for bandombigbang. Betaed by stealstheashes with additional help from supergrover24. They're both wonderful people. Title from Dion's "The Wanderer." Comments always welcome.

Jon's not a big fan of New York. It's not that big cities bother him; he can get around Chicago blindfolded and backwards, but there's something about New York that reminds him that he doesn't fit in. Like he can be in the middle of some shitty dive bar and drinking shitty beer just like everyone else, but there are still twenty people sizing him up and mentally ranking him on a ladder of cool. He always winds up on the bottom rung. Not that Jon wants to be on top, but he'd like it if they'd stop looking at him so he wouldn't wonder if he'd wasted vacation days on this trip.

Hopefully, it'll be better when the music starts. Everyone will have something to focus on apart from each other, and Jon will remember that he's here because Tom called him up a week ago and asked him if he could grab a few days off while Tom's band was still on tour. Empires won't be back in Chicago until after they're done with their support gig in Europe, and Tom had something important to tell him that couldn't wait. Since Tom's girlfriend lives in Brooklyn now and pretty much the only things Tom can talk about anymore are music and love, Jon can guess what it is, but it's still nice Tom wants to tell him in person.

The first opener is setting up now, just one guy with a really nice acoustic guitar. The singer has a baby face, a mop of shaggy hair curling around his ears, and he's wearing ridiculous striped pants. The twenty people who were analyzing Jon a second ago all push toward the stage, and Jon thinks of nature shows on the Discovery Channel, of a pride of lions circling an antelope. He almost feels bad, but guitar guy just leans forward and mumbles "I'm Ryan" into the microphone and starts to play.

It turns out that Ryan's not bad; his melodies aren't too predictable, his lyrics are catchy, and his voice is rough but sweet. Jon knows the crowd will forget him once Sean hits the stage because he's witnessed the Van Vleet whirlwind firsthand and because Ryan seems to have problems with basic stage presence, like actually looking at the audience. Still, he watches the whole set and taps along and by the time Ryan leaves the stage, Jon's the one clapping loudest.

+

After Empires plays, Jon pushes his way backstage, grinning a mile wide, all reservations about flying out to New York gone after getting to see his best friend in the world tear up the stage with a band that's making him happy instead of miserable. Yeah, there's a little jealousy there, but Jon feels that every time he sees a friend on stage while he's stuck doing A/C repair in Chicago high-rises, but really the pride and happiness override that. He made his choice a long time ago, and he's never really clicked with a band the way he always wanted anyway. Shit happens, and that's the shit that happened to Jon.

"Great show tonight," Jon says sneaking up behind Tom and grabbing his guitar case without asking. "How does it feel to be a superstar?"

"Jon Walker!" Tom says. He hugs Jon hard, and Jon hugs back one-handed. "I didn't think you'd make it in time."

"My flight got delayed," Jon mumbles into Tom's shoulder. "Took a cab from JFK and spent a fortune. I've got my bag here with me."

"So dedicated. Let me get a look at you." Tom pulls back and holds Jon by the shoulders. "Where'd your beard go?"

Jon rubs his chin. "Time for a change," Jon says. "I'm now the only repairman in Illinois without one."

"Rebel! It's great to see you," Tom says.

"Of course it is," Jon says. "Now do I get to hear your good news now that we're face-to-face, or are you going to keep me in suspense longer? I flew kind of far for this."

Tom laughs. "No, now's good. Hey, Danielle!"

Danielle, Tom's girlfriend, looks over from the conversation she'd been having and smiles when she notices Jon. He's glad that she doesn't hate him after Cassie and he broke up; it wasn't too bitter, but they'd been together forever, so of course it was a little messy, and Cassie and Danielle are close friends. Deep down, Jon thinks that everyone expects him and Cassie to patch things up, but Jon knows that's not in the cards. There's just too much to fix and neither of them is the same person they'd been at the beginning. Some people grow together, but not everyone. It sucks being the not everyone.

"Hi, Jon," Danielle says, extending her hand. She and Tom are both already grinning before Jon's eyes reach the glint of metal and gemstones circling her ring finger, and Jon can't do anything but grin back at them.

"Well, well," Jon says, squinting and shielding his eyes like they hurt, "what a surprise this is."

"Yeah, Tom's good at keeping secrets, what with making you fly out to New York on a whim and all. I knew you'd never guess."

"I'm stealthy," Tom agrees.

"Congratulations are in order." Jon pushes the guitar case into Tom's hands. "Sorry, you're going to have to play your own roadie for a second because I want to hug your fiancée properly."

"I'm used to it," Tom says as Jon opens up his arms.

"Oh my God," Danielle says against Jon's chest. "We're getting married."

Jon kisses the top of her head before letting her go. "Couldn't have happened to two better people. Seriously, it was worth coming all the way out here just to see how happy you are in person. If you guys could bottle that stuff, you'd be fucking millionaires."

"There is one more thing," Tom says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We're not planning on having anything big, but we do want all the people we love around us when we do it."

"So, Chicago," Danielle says. Jon nods.

"And I want you to be my best man," Tom says.

Jon's eyes widen. His two older brothers got married right after each other and they just traded off so he didn't get to be best man in either of their weddings, and even though it hadn't mattered to him much at the time, he pretty much figured that was it for him.

"Really?" Jon asks.

"No, I'm fucking with you," Tom says. "Of course really! Does that mean you'll do it?"

"Fuck yeah I will!" Jon says, holding his hand up for a high-five. "This is so awesome. I'm honored."

Tom and Danielle grin at each other again, then back at Jon, and it's a little overwhelming to have that much happiness focused on him. Then Tom's grin turns a little wicked.

"Okay, then, best man. Your first duty is to pick up my fucking guitar case so we can get back to Danielle's place for an afterparty."

Jon salutes and picks the case up again. "Happy to oblige."

+

There are too many people crammed into Danielle's little Brooklyn walk-up. The whole tour is there, plus all of Danielle's New York friends, plus a bunch of other people that no one seems to know, judging by Tom's confused face every time a new someone congratulates him.

Jon's talking to the guy who works sound at the venue and, ironically, trying to make himself heard over the noise of the stereo and everyone around him having simultaneous conversations. They'd been talking about sound boards and how Jon got his degree in technical lighting before falling into air conditioner repair because it was too hard to get into the tech workers' union, but he thinks the guy -- Matt or Mike or Alex, maybe, since everyone seems to be an Alex -- is too drunk to really follow the conversation. Jon starts telling dumb jokes instead.

"What do you call video of pedestrians?" Jon says.

"What?" says Matt or Mike or Alex.

" _Footage_ ," Jon says, then claps and spreads out his hands to make spirit fingers. The sound guy doesn't react. "No good? Okay, why do bees hum?" He pauses. "Because they don't know the words!"

"Bees don't hum, they buzz," the sound guy says, which is actually a decent point, but Jon doesn't think he's had enough beer to deal with a dude who can't even laugh at a terrible joke.

"Okay, last one," Jon says. "Two fish swim into a wall. One turns to the other and says, 'Dam!'"

Matt or Mike or Alex shoots Jon a look that says he just fell to the bottom rung of his mental cool ladder, but there's a person on the couch next to him who laughs really loudly at the exact same time. Jon looks over, just to make sure he's actually the one getting the laugh. The other person looks back.

"Wait, I know you," Jon says to the laughing person as the sound guy finally gets bored and wanders off.

"You do?" New Person asks.

"Yeah, you opened tonight. Ryan, right?"

Ryan nods. "Guilty as charged." He's changed out of his ridiculous striped pants, but this new outfit is no less ridiculous. Jon guesses there have to be other people who wear three-piece suits as casualwear, but he's never met any before. "I don't think I know you, though, do I?" Ryan says.

"Nope," Jon says, flopping down into the seat next to Ryan that the sound guy had vacated. "I'm Jon from Chicago. Tom Conrad, you know, the guitarist? I go way back with him."

"Tom's a nice guy," Ryan says. "Chicago's kinda far from here, though. Are you living in New York now or something?"

Jon shakes his head. "Tom just got engaged and I flew out here so he could ask me to be his best man." He chuckles. "I'm using way too many vacation days on a band made up of people I've known since high school."

"Yeah, but friends are important," Ryan says. His face is open and eager when he says this. It's silly, but Jon really likes it.

"What about you?" Jon asks. "I know you haven't been opening for them this whole tour. Do you just play locally?"

Ryan shrugs. "I'm not really local anywhere. But I have a few friends here that I stay with sometimes."

"Man of mystery," Jon says, rolling his eyes.

"No, no," Ryan says, shaking his head. "I promise I'm not. I just don't like staying in one place for one time. Settling makes me restless. But I'm from Vegas originally?"

"Was your daddy a card shark and your mama a showgirl?" Jon asks.

Ryan smiles sweetly, and Jon has trouble looking away from his mouth. "Something like that."

It turns out that Ryan doesn't just have strange stage presence, but is kind of weird one-on-one, too. He stares intently while he talks and his voice is unusually flat. Jon knows he should probably find it off-putting, and maybe he does a little, being under such intense scrutiny only a couple of minutes after they've properly met, but Jon doesn't really want to move. It also turns out Ryan has the nicest eyelashes Jon's ever seen on another guy and a small, charming smile that only appears when Ryan really likes something.

Smitten, says something in the back of Jon's head, and he has to admit that's probably true. It's nice, though, having a crush on someone he's just met. Jon finds a lot of people hot, girls and guys both, but it's been a long time since Jon's felt anything for anyone who wasn't Cassie, and he'd almost thought he'd forgotten how to do it.

"Oh, I love this band," Ryan says, two seconds after Jon starts tapping along with the song playing on Danielle's stereo.

"The Yardbirds?" Jon says, falling even further. "Me too. I'm pretty sure I'm the one who gave Danielle this album."

Ryan tilts his head to one side and looks interested. "What was it that you said you did, Jon Walker?"

"I repair air conditioners for rich people." Jon shrugs. "It's not glamorous, but the money's good."

"I like you," Ryan declares. "You're interesting. I know you're here to see your friend, but would you want to get out of here for awhile? It's pretty crowded."

Jon knows he shouldn't go. First of all, he's here to see Tom and celebrate his engagement, even though Tom is still busy beaming from ear-to-ear as he tells every guest the few wedding plans they have right now. Second, he doesn't know Ryan pretty much at all and it's not like him to go running off in an unfamiliar city with someone he's just met. Still, you only get to live once and Jon's twenty-four and he'd wants to seize the moment.

"Okay," Jon says. "Let me just tell Tom I'm leaving."

"I promise to get you back here in one piece," Ryan assures him.

Jon grins. "Good to know."

In the end, Jon can't get Tom or Danielle away from all the people trying to talk to them, but he figures he can just text one of them later. There probably isn't a high probability that Ryan is a serial killer leading him to doom. Murderers most likely don't use their concert audiences as potential victim pools.

Ryan's leaning against the wall in the front hall when Jon finds him again, and he turns his head, blinking and letting a slow smile spread across his face when he spots Jon. Jon's stomach flips. "Ready?" Ryan asks.

"As I'll ever be," Jon says, and grabs his jacket.

+

They get lost on the subway on their way to wherever they're going. Jon wonders if Ryan's one of those guys who just lets the road take him where it wants, but after their fourth attempt at getting on the right train, Ryan sheepishly scratches his head and says, "I'm not real good with directions."

Jon grins. "Yeah, I'd kind of picked up on that. You want to tell me where we're going?" Ryan tells him and they peer at the big subway map with their heads bent together. Ryan smells really nice, like some fancy shampoo and cologne, instead of stale sweat and Febreeze like most guys in bands. It's so distracting that Jon almost can't concentrate long enough to jab at the right place on the map, and Jon usually prides himself on his superior directional skills.

"We need to go upstairs so we can take the N four stops downtown," Jon says, not really knowing how they got so turned around. Ryan's directional skills are so bad it's almost impressive. Jon grabs Ryan's hand and tugs him toward the stairs. Once they're on the right platform, Ryan doesn't let go. They end up holding hands the entire train ride, and it's the good kind of hand-holding, the kind where Jon is aware of every place his fingers are pressed against Ryan's skin, and his nerve endings feel like they're connected to the swoop in his stomach and to his toes curling inside his shoes. Jon squeezes Ryan's hand once, smiling down at his lap when Ryan smiles back.

+

Ryan winds up bringing Jon to an apartment in the village.

"My friend Alex lives here," Ryan says. "He said he had a few ideas for tonight?" Ryan says the last part like a question, like he's not sure. "We don't have to stay long, but I've been crashing here for awhile, so we can if you want."

Jon shows off his backpack. "Have stuff, will travel." He's lucky he's only staying the weekend and isn't a heavy packer.

Ryan knocks and they wait, but there's no answer. Jon's about to suggest finding a bar or maybe calling Ryan's friend, but Ryan rolls his eyes and just shoves the door open.

"Don't you lock your door?" Ryan yells into the apartment. "Any freak could walk in off the street."

A guy a little older than Jon with a rat's nest of hair appears in the doorway that leads into the living room. "Don't you knock?"

"We did. Clean out your ears," Ryan says. "This is Jon, he's from Chicago. Jon, this is Alex, he's an asshole who lost his spare key and won't get another one made."

Alex gives Jon the once over and nods to himself, so Jon guesses he passed his own 'probably not a serial killer' visual exam. Jon's not so sure Alex would if their positions were reversed, but Ryan's following him back into the living room and there are about twenty guitars all propped up on stands and a mess of empty beer bottles on the coffee table with the promise of full ones, so Jon doesn't resist. Actually, he thinks that if a serial killer ever wanted to lure him back to their lair, guitars and beer would be the best way to do it. He hadn't realized how easy he is before.

Ryan pushes a mess of blankets onto the floor and flops down onto the couch, reaching out to pull Jon down next him. Jon goes easily enough. On the TV, an old repeat of The Partridge Family's E! True Hollywood Story is playing with the volume turned low. Jon's seen it at least twice before and still gets fascinated watching Danny Bonaduce talk about how fucked up his life was at twelve.

"Does your friend want something to drink?" Alex asks, like Jon's not there.

"I can speak," Jon says, lifting up his hand. "And yes. Beer if you've got it."

"A man of discerning taste," Alex says approvingly, gesturing to the mess of bottles. He disappears into the kitchen, and reappears a minute later with two bottles of Yuengling. Jon approves. He'll take PBR or Schlitz if he has to, since beggars can't be choosers and that's all his friend Nick ever has on hand anyway, but he'd rather not drink terrible beer if he can help it.

"Nothing for me?" Ryan asks as Jon takes his bottle.

Alex flops down on Ryan's other side. "You have legs, and you know I won't make you those stupid mixers you love so much."

"Fuck off," Ryan says cheerfully. Jon watches them interact, feeling a little left out. It's always weird to be the extra wheel in a situation, but Ryan's sitting pressed up against Jon's side and leaves a big gap of space between him and Alex. "What's going on tonight?" Ryan asks.

"Karaoke with Dan!" Alex says. "You guys in?"

Jon likes karaoke well enough as long as he's drunk enough, which he's not, but he's willing to be dragged along wherever Ryan wants -- which apparently isn't to karaoke.

"Dan's a bastard," Ryan says. "And did you miss the part where I told you I had a show tonight? Did you think I was lugging my acoustic around just for fun?"

Alex shrugs. "You've done weirder shit," he says, which Jon doesn't doubt. "Okay, then skip karaoke, whatever. You have a friend to keep you entertained." Alex suggestively waggles his eyebrows at Jon, who just raises his back and toasts him with his beer bottle. If what Alex is implying happens to happen, well, Jon’s not going to complain. "I'll just see you guys later."

+

"He lets you stay alone in his apartment?" Jon says once Alex leaves.

"He leaves his door unlocked when no one's here," Ryan says. He's flipping through Alex's DVD collection so they have something to watch aside from cautionary tales from 70's TV. "Besides, we go way back and he's got nothing worth stealing other than the guitars."

"The guitars are pretty nice," Jon says, rubbing at the legs of his denim. "You sure you don't want to go out somewhere else?"

Ryan shrugs. "Do you want to? I feel kind of bad taking you from a swinging party with your friends just to come back here, but I don't get an empty apartment much, what with not having my own apartment and all."

"It's cool," Jon says. "Just between you and me, I'm not much of a partier."

Ryan grins over his shoulder. "I'll keep all your secrets, Jon."

Jon's stomach does a funny little swoop at that, and he almost misses his phone vibrating in his pocket.

_you ok? party's dying down and someone saw you leave. we left a key under the mat for you. if you die in nyc, your mom will never forgive me._

Jon types back _fine. made a friend, don't wait up, thanks for the key_ to Tom, then turns his phone off. Tom's going to give him so much shit tomorrow morning, but that can wait until tomorrow. Ryan holds up Yellow Submarine with his left hand and The Crow with his right; Jon points to the right. Ryan nods approvingly and pops the disc into the DVD player before joining Jon on the couch again.

"I wouldn't have taken you for an early 90's movie guy," Ryan says.

"What, from the two whole hours of your life that we've known each other?" Jon smiles and shifts closer to Ryan, dropping his arm onto the back of the couch. "I guess I can see why you'd consider yourself an expert."

Ryan turns to face Jon. "Sometimes I'm good at reading people." He licks his bottom lip, and Jon leans in, letting their mouths brush together. Ryan lets it happen for one beat, two, before pulling away. "See? I knew you were going to do that."

"So you're fifty-fifty for me," Jon says. "I'm definitely a 90's movie guy." His mouth is buzzing even though the kiss was short and sweet, and he wants to do it again, but Ryan is looking at the TV now. Jon decides not to push his luck. He's not a jerk.

They watch the movie together in silence for about an hour, while Jon lets the day catch up with him. The travel and the concert and the party and the getting lost on the subway all hit him at once and he starts slumping sleepily next to Ryan. He rests his head on Ryan's shoulder and Ryan reaches up to rub his hand against the side of Jon's face. He has long fingers and smooth skin, and moves with a soothing rhythm. Jon hears himself start to make soft sleepy sounds of contentment, but he's too far gone to even care.

+

Jon wakes up feeling like hell. His back aches, his mouth is dry, and there's sun streaming through the windows, which never happens in his apartment at home, at least not first thing in the morning. There's a crocheted afghan thrown over him and he's on an unfamiliar couch. The glint of the sun off a beer bottle brings everything back into sharp clarity, and when Jon looks at the floor, Ryan's fast asleep in a nest of blankets and pillows right next to the couch, so covered that all Jon can see is the top of his head and his bare feet sticking out the other end. It's a good thing Jon doesn't move around much in his sleep, because he easily could have rolled right off onto Ryan.

He wonders what the protocol is in this type of situation. Jon knows they didn't do anything last night; he hadn't had enough to drink to forget and the last thing he remembers is falling asleep during the movie.

A muffled "Morning" coming from the pile of blankets makes up Jon's mind for him. Jon reaches down and peels back three blankets to find Ryan's face peering up at him.

"Morning," Jon says. "Why are you on the floor?"

"I just couldn't make you sleep down here. You seemed so tired," Ryan says. He's got at least five pillow creases in his face and his hair is sticking in several directions. It's really fucking adorable.

"Are you apologizing for letting me have the couch? Because that ranks way up there in the least necessary apologies I've ever gotten," Jon says, his voice gravelly and rough from sleep.

Ryan smiles and yawns suddenly, his jaw cracking. "Well, I'm also apologizing for promising you excitement and you getting nothing out of it other than a night on Alex's lumpy couch." Jon starts to protest, but Ryan shakes his head. "No, I usually sleep there. I know what a piece of shit it is. Actually, now that I've stayed down here, I think the floor might be more comfortable."

Jon doesn't doubt it; the little blanket and pillow cocoon Ryan's got going on does look really inviting, especially with Ryan inside it. "Coffee would be a good apology," he says. "You know, in case you're trying to make things up to me." He rolls onto his stomach and lets his hand drop down to the floor, reaching over to brush his hand over Ryan's blankets.

"We've got coffee. Or we can go out for breakfast. There's a diner like a block away that makes the biggest fucking pancakes you've ever seen." Ryan unearths his arm from his blankets and pulls Jon's hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it. It's simultaneously weird and endearing, and Jon suddenly doesn't want to go back to Chicago. It's ridiculous to feel this way, he knows, but he can't help it. Ryan is sweet and funny and _odd_ , but in a nice way, and he made Jon get lost four times and lug his stuff everywhere just to watch a movie Jon's seen a hundred times and sleep on the couch, and Jon doesn't even _mind_.

"How are their omelets?" Jon asks, swallowing a little as Ryan turns Jon's hand over and kisses the pads of his fingers.

"Definitely acceptable," Ryan says, pressing his lips to the middle of Jon's palm. Then he wriggles out of his blankets and gets onto the couch with Jon, stretching out next to him and rubbing their feet together. "I took your shoes and socks off, I hope you don't mind."

"I hate shoes actually," Jon says and lets Ryan kiss him. He kind of wishes he had some mouthwash or at least some water, but Ryan doesn't seem to mind the morning breath situation, parting his lips on a sigh and pressing closer. Jon threads his fingers through Ryan's messy hair and rolls onto his back, pulling Ryan on top of him while he tries to make his blanket magically disappear with the power of his mind. Ryan is a good kisser with a soft mouth and he makes tiny little noises that Jon wants recorded and put on loop to listen to on his iPod.

"Jesus, get a room."

Ryan makes a surprised noise and rolls right off the couch, landing on the floor with a loud _thump_ , and Jon's so kiss-dumb that it takes him a second for his brain to catch up and realize what's just happened.

"Hi," Jon says to Alex, tilting his head back to look at him upside-down. "Uh. Thanks for letting me crash on your couch."

Alex shrugs. "Mi casa es su casa, unless you're getting sex fluids all over it, _Ryan_."

Ryan groans and pulls himself back onto the couch, sitting on the edge of one of the cushions. "We were just kissing," he says. "No sex fluids involved."

"Yeah, but that was kissing with intent. Soon there'd be sex fluids flying everywhere."

"Can everyone please stop saying sex fluids?" Jon asks, sitting up.

"Yes," Ryan says, just as Alex cheerfully says, "No!"

"I still want coffee," Jon says, "and I make out way better on a full stomach." He touches the small of Ryan's back and hooks his chin over Ryan's shoulder, pleased when he catches Ryan smiling out of the corner of his eye. "Also, I should probably make my way back to Brooklyn pretty soon, just so my friends don't sic the NYPD on you."

"I stole Jon from his friends' engagement party," Ryan explains.

Alex laughs. "Classy as always, Ross. Go buy the tourist some fucking breakfast already. Sex fluids don't count."

" _Stop it_ ," Jon and Ryan say in unison.

+

Ryan insists on buying Jon's omelet, even though Jon can see Ryan's not exactly rolling in dough and Jon can afford his own breakfast. Still, it's nice being taken out, and nicer still when Ryan holds his hand across the table and tries eating with just his left hand even though it's pretty clear he's not a leftie. Jon finally lets go when Ryan almost puts his eye out with his fork, and sticks out his tongue when Ryan pouts back at him.

Ryan also insists on riding back with him back to Danielle's place, even though the idea of Ryan getting back to Alex's on his own makes Jon think he'll never see him again. The thought makes Jon frown, since there's a pretty decent chance that he'll never see Ryan again either way; he'd already let himself be stolen away from his friends for one night and two in a row would really be pushing his luck. Still, he feels like letting Ryan go would mean missing out on something great. Jon can't remember the last time he felt like that -- years, maybe, probably not since he first met Cassie.

When they get out of the subway and Jon pulls his phone out of his pocket to turn it on again, Ryan snatches it out of his hand just as ten texts from Tom register on the display. "I'm no good at programming numbers into my phone," Ryan says, pressing numbers until Jon hears a ringing from inside Ryan's pocket. Ryan hands Jon his phone back and pulls his own out, where Jon's number is displayed. "Okay, now you have mine and I have yours. We have no excuse for not keeping in touch."

Jon nods and doesn't even try to stop grinning.

Ryan walks with Jon the whole way once Danielle buzzes them in, even though it's four stories up. Jon kisses Ryan again when they're standing in front of Danielle's door, and this is better than their early morning kiss. Jon's always a little better once he has some caffeine in him, and there's a little bit of desperation he can't quite keep out of it, holding on to Ryan's lapels and pressing as close as he can. Ryan doesn't seem fazed by Jon's insistence, though, opening his mouth a little wider and letting Jon sweep his tongue inside.

Finally, Tom opens the door, making them pull away from one another. Tom's eyebrows are raised, and Jon gives him a sheepish shrug.

"Bye, Jon," Ryan says, waving as he starts back down the stairs. "Don't forget you have my number."

Jon shakes his head. Like he's about to forget.

+

Tom still has a mildly curious, mildly disbelieving, maybe mildly disapproving look on his face when Jon shuffles into the apartment with his hands jammed into his pants pockets.

"Go ahead," Jon says, throwing his bag onto one of Danielle's kitchen chairs. "Say whatever it is that you're thinking."

Tom presses his lips together. "I'm not thinking anything."

"Liar," Danielle says from her spot on the sofa. "I, for one, am happy that you're making the most of your visit." Jon shoots her a grateful look, relieved for the surprising support. "That was the cute guy who opened for Tom yesterday, right?"

Jon nods just as Tom says, "You think he's cute?"

Danielle laughs and heads toward her bedroom. "Yeah, my eyes work, thanks. But stick around tonight, Jon. Tom told me he wants to cook dinner and I think that'll wind up being really entertaining for both of us."

"I'll do that," Jon says.

"I swear I wasn't going to say anything _bad_ ," Tom says, once Danielle's out of earshot. "I was just surprised that you left yesterday and then I kept texting you and you didn't answer -- it's just not like you."

Jon shrugs. "I was trying something. Besides, who cares? He's out here and I'm going back to Chicago tomorrow. Whatever happened isn't going to matter much in the long run, right?"

"Jon, have you ever even met yourself?"

"I can have one-night stands," Jon says stubbornly. Never mind that he didn't actually have a one-night stand, and never mind that nothing about Ryan feels like just one-night to him.

Tom shakes his head. "I saw you looking at him when he left. You're about as good a liar as I am."

+

Jon gets his first text from Ryan on Wednesday afternoon while he's sitting in the airport and waiting to fly back to O'Hare. He knows he could have taken the first step there, but he got caught up with hanging out with Tom and Danielle (and making fun of Tom's attempts at cooking). Plus, he doesn't really want to acknowledge the feelings swimming around in his head, so maybe it's a little more avoidance than anything else. He knows he gets attached to people too fast.

But the text says _Forget about me already?_ and Jon feels bad about it, bad enough that the thought of missing his flight and blowing off work for the rest of the week flits through his head. Fuck, he doesn't regret coming out to New York because it's been an awesome couple of days, but he wouldn't be nearly this confused if he hadn't come.

_No, just waiting for my flight. Going back home today._

Ryan's answer comes right away: _Good thing for modern technology. You should call me when you land, okay?_

Jon texts back _Okay_ right away before his brain can even talk him out of it.

+

Chicago is still Chicago. Jon's flight gets delayed and he winds up circling the airport for an hour before landing. He calls Ryan when he finally gets on solid ground again, but the call goes right through to voicemail. He leaves a message that's maybe a bit rambly, but the sentiment is sincere and ends with an awkward, "So you should call me some time."

He parked his car in long-term, so he rescues his beat-up Honda Civic and pays way too much for the privilege. Then he has to pick up his cats from his parents' house, so he fights the traffic on I-90 and finds his parents already asleep when he gets there. Jon lets himself in with the key they keep inside the ceramic dog statue next to the welcome mat, and Dylan and Clover both trot up to him immediately, rubbing their furry little bodies against his legs and meowing at him.

"Yeah, we can catch up in the car," he says, herding them both into their carriers. The cats don't shut up the whole way back to Jon's apartment, even though they're both usually pretty well-behaved when Jon drives them places. He figures they're yelling at him for leaving them, which makes him feel bad, even though they're _cats_. Jon loves his cats a lot, but that's kind of silly, even for him. When he finally stumbles into his apartment, it's so late that Jon's caught between eating or sleeping, and he winds up just crashing for the night.

The next morning there's a missed call from Ryan on his phone.

+

Work is still work, too, not that Jon had expected anything different, though it somehow feels more soul-crushing than it had been a week ago. Nothing at work has changed, of course. He still has to wake up at the same time and does the normal amount of repairs, but Friday night is on constant loop in his head. Jon keeps replaying how Ryan's mouth felt pressed against his. That would be cool if Jon were home alone in his bed, but not so much while he's driving a work van to a job site.

"Jon!" Andy, Jon's partner at work, leans over from the passenger side and flicks Jon on the side of the head to get his attention.

Jon shakes his head like a wet dog to clear it.

"You too tired to drive?" Andy asks, raising an eyebrow at him. "I can take over if you want."

"No, it's cool," Jon says. "I slept fine. Sorry, I don't know where I was."

Jon gives himself a mental slap and forces his eyes to stay on the road.

+

Three days pass before Jon gets up the nerve to call Ryan again. When Ryan answers, there's a lot of noise behind him.

"Hello?" Ryan shouts. Jon holds the phone around from his ear.

"Hey, if this is a bad time, I can just --"

"Who is this?"

"It's Jon."

"Who?"

" _Jon_!"

"Oh! HI!" Ryan says. "Sorry, Alex dragged me out to some gallery opening thing and there's some guy doing ambient sound performance art now. Can I call you back?"

Jon has no idea what ambient sound performance art even is, but he yells, "YES, CALL ME LATER," and hangs up, hoping that Ryan could hear him.

+

Ryan doesn't get back to him for two days. It kills Jon inside to wait that long, and when Ryan finally does get back to him it's just to text _New York is so boring,_ which is something Jon kind of doubts. He isn't sure what's gotten into him; Ryan is much flightier than anyone Jon's ever been interested before, but Jon can't stop thinking about him.

He figures it out again when Ryan sends him another text ( _Gonna rock this town anyway_ ) and a camera picture of himself, posing deliberately in a bathroom mirror to show off his entire outfit. Jon prints it out and sticks it on the mirror next to a bunch of pictures of his pets and family, and sends back one of himself lying on his couch with Clover asleep on his chest.

+

"Okay, so luckily there's not a lot for a best man to do, other than make sure the other groomsmen get their tuxes." Tom's been chattering at Jon for twenty minutes about the tour and Florida, which is where he is now, and how Danielle's sisters are trying to book a hall in Chicago for two months from now and how much trouble they're having, even though Danielle and Tom don't want anything fancy, just a big party for all of their friends. Jon's trying to pay attention, jotting down dates and a few notes on a pad, but mostly he's trying to work out when Tom started talking so much. "We can have a bachelor party, too, but I don't want strippers or anything. Sean's really disappointed by that, but don't let him strong arm you."

"What?" Jon asks.

"The bachelor party," Tom says. He doesn't sound annoyed that Jon isn't listening, probably because Tom zones out constantly and expects it from others. "You get to plan it. I don't know when, though? Maybe the end of August."

Jon nods, even though Tom can't see him. "I'm sure I'll be able to work something out, even if we all get drunk and thrown out of every bar in the city."

"Again," Tom says, and laughs. "Yeah, whatever, just make sure there's Jameson's for me."

"What kind of best friend do you think I am?"

"The kind whose head is somewhere else," Tom says. "Still hung up on that guy?"

Jon groans. "You say 'still' like I ever was."

"Yeah, I do," Tom says mildly.

"We've been talking a little," Jon confesses. "But it doesn't mean anything -- he takes like a week to get back to me sometimes, and it's usually just to send me pictures."

"Oh, _really_?" Tom says.

"Not those kind of pictures. Just pictures, I don't know. Camera phone shots of himself or a broken-down building or a weird dog he sees," Jon says. "I send stuff back to him, too, pictures of the cats and stuff. But he's far away and I'm not waiting around for some guy I met once. I have to move on with my life."

Tom pauses for a long time, the way he always does when he has something important to say, but doesn't want Jon to blow up at him. Sometimes Jon really hates how long they've known each other.

"Listen, Walker," Tom says eventually, "it's not that I don't think you can meet someone awesome in Chicago, because it's a big city and I don't really believe in fate or soulmates or whatever, but don't let life pass you by while you're trying to move on. You only get one shot, no matter how clichéd that sounds."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jon says.

"Good," Tom says. "I've got to go; Sean's making weird gestures that I think mean we're sound checking. Either that or he has to go to the bathroom but I don't think he needs my help with that."

Jon laughs. "He might. Miss you, dude."

"You too, man. Take care of yourself," Tom says and hangs up.

+

Jon and Ryan exchange text messages and call each other sometimes, but the time between things grows, and Jon finally decides to take his own advice and agrees to go on a blind date with a girl his friend Shawn knows from the gym.

Her name is Amanda, and she's attractive and definitely Jon's type -- pretty eyes, dark hair, nice smile -- but ten minutes into dinner, it's obvious that Amanda's on the rebound and not even ready for a one-night stand yet. She tells Jon all about her ex, about how he called her in the middle of the night and how she wanted to go over to his place and forget their months of fighting to see if they could still fix things.

It's not ideal first date conversation, but Jon has to admit that she's not exactly what he wants either, and he winds up talking a lot about Cassie and how they went back-and-forth forever before finally realizing there wasn't anything left between them to fix. Jon feels good, finally admitting that out loud, but Amanda almost starts crying into her pasta puttanesca, and Jon hurries to assure her that some couples are meant to happen. They exchange numbers in front of the restaurant, but Jon knows she won't call again.

When he's plugging in Amanda's contact information, there's a text message from Ryan, the first in a week and all it says is "Onto the next adventure!"

Jon replies, but gets nothing back and when he calls Ryan few days later, the call goes straight through to voice mail. That keeps happening every time Jon calls for the next two weeks, and Jon figures that's that.

He tells himself that he's relieved, but it's a lie.

+

It's five in the morning on a Monday when Jon's phone starts ringing, and Jon is in no way awake. He winds up flinging out his arm and jerking his leg as he's pulled out of sleep, making Dylan hiss angrily and Clover let out a mournful yowl. Jon apologizes to them as he rolls out of bed and leaps across the room to reach his phone before it clicks over to voicemail because the only reasons someone would call him two hours before he needs to be awake for work have to involve an explosion, death, or both. At least Jon hopes so, for the sake of whoever's calling him, because Jon is pretty fucking grumpy now.

He's so out of it that he doesn't even check to see who's calling, just grabs the phone and mumbles, "Hello," three and a half rings in.

"Wow, hi. I didn't think you'd pick up, but I thought I'd take a chance. Did you know there are, like, no pay phones anywhere anymore? I remember there used to be a bunch when I was a little kid, but I guess they took them all out because everyone has cell phones now."

Jon wrinkles his forehead in confusion. "Who is this?" he says.

"Oh, fuck! It's Ryan. Shit, I should have said."

"Ryan," Jon says, and sits down on the edge of his bed. "Are you drunk or something? I'd point out what time it is but it's only an hour earlier here."

"Um," Ryan says. "It's actually the same time. See, I'm in Chicago right now, but I have no idea if I'm anywhere near where you are. I thought I'd call to check. I sort of hitchhiked here? In a roundabout way, I guess, but I haven't been in New York in about two weeks and then I let my phone get shut off and I haven't had a chance to get it turned back on yet. You know how it is."

Jon blinks into the darkness because his brain refuses to comprehend what Ryan is saying.

"I can hang out here for awhile," Ryan says. "There's an all-night coffee shop I can see from here and shit will start opening up soon enough, so don't worry about me. Go to work or whatever and I'll call again later tonight. No pressure." There's a series of clicks on the other line. "Shit, my money's about to run out and I don't have another quarter. I'll talk to you later."

"No, wait!" Jon says just as Ryan gets cut off. "Fuck."

Dylan pads across the bed and butts the back of Jon's hand with his head. Jon absently scratches him as he stares at the phone and tries to decide what to do. Of course Ryan didn't give Jon any landmarks, so Jon doesn't even know where to start. When he checks his phone, the pay phone number comes up as unknown so he can't figure things out from there. All he can do is wait for Ryan to check in. He tries not to feel guilty about it; Ryan's obviously used to finding himself in weird situations.

Getting back to sleep is impossible, so Jon stretches and gets up, feeds the cats, and puts on the coffeemaker to start getting ready for work. He figures getting in earlier for once instead of at nine on the dot will look pretty good to his boss, and he can always use a few extra assignments. Jon tries to pretend it's not because his job gets him into a work van and out into the city, where he'll be able to look around for Ryan. Chicago's big, and it's not like it's easy to run into someone by coincidence. So he's stupid for thinking it might happen.

+

Andy stumbles into the office at twenty to nine and he nearly trips over his own feet when he spots Jon already organizing their folders for the day and dangling keys around his index finger. Andy almost always beats Jon into work, and he's usually in charge of getting their appointments and signing out the van keys. Jon does most of the driving and buys coffee, and that's their trade-off. They have a good rhythm. Jon's always thrown off when Andy calls out or goes on vacation because he's just not as comfortable with the other repair guys. But it makes sense; Andy and Jon have known each other since high school, and Andy's the one who recommended Jon to this job in the first place.

"I think I owe Mike five bucks," Andy says.

Jon shoves the folders into Andy's arms. "Why?"

"You've been so out of it, we thought you were giving your notice," Andy says. "But now you're all... motivated and shit. I wasn't expecting to see that."

"Good morning to you, too," Jon says, trying not to be annoyed at the implication that he's been falling down on the job. That isn't what Andy said, and he knows his head hasn't exactly been in the right place lately because he knows exactly where his head _has_ been. Not that that stops him from checking his phone again, just in case. No calls. "I got you a macchiato on my way in," he tells Andy.

"My favorite," Andy says, approvingly. "How much do I owe you?"

Jon shakes his head. "Nothing. I think I'm having a lucky day." He stoops down to check the laces on his work boots and then gets up to pull his jacket on.

Andy snorts. "If you hit the lottery or something, make sure to cut in your loyal friends who knew you when. We can be your entourage or something."

"Not that kind of lucky, Soukal," Jon says.

"Oh," Andy says, looking confused. Then his face clears with understanding. " _Oh_. Well, that's all right, too."

Jon checks his phone again. No calls, full bars. "Maybe. Don't jinx it."

+

So yeah, maybe Jon had never planned on going into air conditioner repair, but plenty of people do jobs they hadn't seen themselves doing as kids. No one ever says 'I'm going to be a loan officer when I grow up,' but people still wind up in those jobs and it doesn't mean they have bad lives.

And Jon likes it. He doesn't get stuck in an office all day -- he's sure he'd never be any good at, like, filing or answering phones -- and he works with people he likes in a city he loves. There are worse things.

"Why do you keep looking out the window like that?" Andy asks. He even leans over the gearshift to peer out the driver's side window. "We're nowhere near where we're going. You can't be looking for parking yet."

Jon feels his face heat up. "Drink your coffee," Jon orders. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Andy shake his head, but he does as he's told and doesn't ask any follow-up questions. Jon's looking for... well, he doesn't know exactly, but probably a guitar case and an outfit straight out of the early seventies. He doesn't see anything other than a handful of joggers, a few people pushing their kids around in strollers, and business people jaywalking and swinging briefcases around while frantically checking their watches or phones. Just normal Chicago life and he knows he's acting ridiculous, but he still checks his phone again after he parks the van down the street from their first appointment.

The job is in an office building with a problem on the tenth floor, but Jon still has to head up to the roof to see if the building's main unit is working properly. This is his favorite part of the job, getting to look down on his city from up on high. It kind of sucks when it's way below freezing or when it's raining cats and dogs, but on a spring day with the sun shining and the birds chirping, it's perfect, idyllic, like anything on earth is possible. Today is a good day.

+

The good day turns into a great day right before they head back to the office before lunch. Jon's phone rings with an unlisted number; he cuts off Andy mid-word and runs away to get some privacy.

"Ryan?" Jon answers instead of hello.

"Hey," Ryan says. "You sound much more awake now. Are you working?"

"Yeah, but I'm going on my lunch break now. You want to tell me where you are so I can get you?"

"Mmm, yeah, but it can wait. I don't want to get you into trouble. I like your city. I've never been here before."

Jon rolls his eyes, but he's grinning hard. "You don't have to be all mysterious, you know."

"I know. What time do you get off work?" Ryan says. "I'm at the Field Museum. I've already looked around a little, but I bet I could kill a few more hours here if I looked carefully enough."

Jon does some mental math; he and Andy had an early start and got half their list done this morning. If the afternoon went as well as the morning, he could be back at the office by three-thirty and to Ryan by four o'clock. Four hours that will drag and drag.

"Yeah, stay there," Jon says. "If you don't hear from me by four, go find another phone and call me again, okay?"

"Sure," Ryan says easily. "You know, your voice is really nice."

Jon's stomach did a somersault and he had to smile down at his toes. "I'll see you soon, Ryan."

"Can't wait," Ryan says, and hangs up.

+

Andy has his arms crossed over his chest when Jon joins him again, and he shakes his head. "Go ahead and ask," Andy says.

"Ask what?" Jon says, but he grins when Andy sighs. "Andy, old pal, would you cover for me if I skipped out this afternoon?"

"Yes, yes I would," Andy says, "but only because we're old friends and also because I haven't gotten laid in a really long time and it's important for me to live vicariously through my friends. _Also_ because you'll owe me big, and the only thing I like more than living vicariously through my friends is having something to dangle over their heads."

"So generous," Jon says and gives Andy a high-five. "I'll remember this if you ever get laid again," Jon calls as he starts to run off. "It's got to happen sooner or later."

Jon gets back to his car and drives over to the museum, taking a second to check his hair in the rearview mirror and pushing away the momentary feeling of irrationality.

He leaves the car in a garage that overcharges him, but he's on a mission and he barely even notices. Jon's prepared to look around every wing, but there's a big sign hanging out front advertising a display dedicated to the science of rock 'n roll and Jon just has a _feeling_. He knows he'd be able to get lost there for hours, so he's unsurprised to find Ryan staring intently at a sign describing the video significance of Dylan's 'Subterranean Homesick Blues.'

Jon slows down and takes a moment just to look; Ryan is taller than Jon remembers from that night (Jon's a little bit in denial about his height, okay?), and he's wearing a sea green button-down with brown corduroys, his padded-fabric guitar case on his back and a duffel bag strapped across his chest. His hair is shorter, curlier, and it looks like it's been a few days since Ryan's seen the business end of a shower. Jon knows he's been at least as attracted to other people as he is to Ryan, but staring at the back of Ryan's head makes it hard to remember.

"Excuse me, sir," Jon says, tapping on Ryan's shoulder. Ryan turns around, confusion melting into happiness once recognition sets in.

"Hi there," Ryan says happily. "I thought you weren't coming for hours. You lied to me." He doesn't seem bothered by that.

Jon shrugs. "Guilty. But you disappeared off the face of the earth, then called me in the middle of the night from a pay phone in my city and didn't tell me where you were. I'm entitled to a little lie."

"I guess we're even then," Ryan says.

"Completely," Jon agrees.

"I'm not, like, interrupting your life or anything, right?" Ryan asks. "Because I think I know other people in Chicago if you want me to go away."

"No!" Jon says. "No, don't go away. I'm glad you called me."

Ryan grins. "Cool. I know how one night can be just one night, but I was..."

"Hoping for two?" Jon suggests.

"Something like that," Ryan says.

Something like that sounds okay to Jon, especially when Ryan slips his hand into Jon's while they walk around.


	2. Chapter 2

+

Ryan lets Jon carry his duffel bag, lets Jon buy him dinner, and lets Jon take him home. When Ryan steps into Jon's apartment, he drops his guitar case in the living room and takes a look around, not that there's much to look at. Jon has a few old band posters on the walls, a decent-sized television, furniture hand-me-downs from his brothers, and more cat toys than someone can shake a stick at, but nothing that really stands out.

Clover comes out to examine the stranger right away. Jon's not surprised -- she's the nosy one; Dylan will hide out in the bedroom for at least a half-hour before he decides that the coast is clear.

"You have a cat," Ryan says, sounding delighted as Clover purrs and winds herself around Ryan's ankles.

"Two, actually. This is Clover and she likes new people," Jon says. "Dylan will probably come out later."

"Hello, Clover. Pleased to meet you," Ryan says, very seriously. He crouches down on the floor and skritches behind Clover's ears, and when Clover rolls onto her back, he rubs her soft, furry belly. Jon's charmed, not like it takes much when it comes to cute animals, but it's really adorable that Ryan likes them as much as he seems to.

Once Clover's belly rub needs have been satisfied and she trots back into the bedroom, Jon asks, "Did you want to use the shower?"

Ryan stands up and brushes invisible lint off his pants. "Are you saying I smell?"

"Yes, with your nose," Jon says solemnly. He walks over to Ryan and wraps his arms around Ryan's shoulders, stretching up a little so he can press a kiss to the tip of Ryan's nose. Ryan wrinkles it. "I just thought you might want one since you've been on the road."

"Or maybe you just want me naked and slippery twenty feet away from you," Ryan says.

Jon's not about to deny that. "There are towels in the bathroom closet," he says instead, pointing down the hall to his bathroom.

Ryan pads down the hall and shuts the door behind him. A couple of minutes later Jon can hear the sound of running water and he goes into frantic will-we-won't-we mode. Even if he never makes his bed, it's in okay shape, and he just changed the sheets last week. Jon definitely has condoms in his underwear drawer and a half-empty bottle of lube...somewhere. Probably under his bed. _Hopefully_ under his bed, because otherwise he has no idea. Jon gives his underarms a quick sniff and makes sure he pulled on a pair of half-decent underwear in his bleary early morning stumbling.

By the time the water shuts off, Jon is relaxing on his couch with an old issue of Rolling Stone open on his lap. He's almost impressed by how casual he looks.

Ryan reappears with dripping wet hair, holding up the towel wrapped around his waist with one hand. "Sorry," Ryan says, "my stuff's all out here."

Jon shakes his head hard, forcing himself to look away from Ryan's chest and the droplets of water clinging to Ryan's shoulders and collarbones. "It's --" The word gets stuck in Jon's throat. He clears it and tries again. "It's fine. Good thing I told you where the towels were."

Ryan smiles as he grabs his duffel and goes back into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later in a worn yellow t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His hair's a little messy now, like he toweled it off and didn't bother combing it after.

"You have guitars," Ryan observes. There are two acoustics propped up next to Jon's bookshelf, and an electric Ryan can't see tucked away in the hall closet along with an amp. Jon doesn't play them for anyone other than himself these days, but he plays often enough that they're all still in good condition. It's a nice way for him to unwind at the end of a night.

"I played in a few bands in high school and college," Jon says. "No big deal. Did you want to play?"

Ryan nods and crouches down to examine them both with the same seriousness that he gave to Clover, eventually picking the Epiphone. He sits on Jon's couch and pulls the pick out of the frets, strumming a few chords. Jon grabs the Takamine and starts plucking along accompaniment, and it's nice just having someone else to play with. Tom and Jon still jam sometimes, but Tom's mostly too busy making music with his band for him to want to do this with Jon. Not for lack of trying, of course -- they'd been in a couple of bands together when they were younger but it never really panned out. It's weird how two people can be such good friends and still not really be able to make music together.

Ryan segues into "Hey Jude," with Jon laughing and picking up on it right away. Jon starts singing along and, after a considering look, Ryan starts singing harmony. By the time they get to the na-na-na-na-nananana part, they're both laughing as much as they're playing, and when the song ends, Jon pulls off his guitar and slides closer to Ryan.

"Is our jam session over?" Ryan asks innocently.

Jon nods, helping Ryan pull the guitar strap up and off his neck. Ryan gently places the guitar on Jon's floor and looks up, smiling.

"I can't believe you're not in a band now," Ryan says.

"Neither can I sometimes." He smiles and takes Ryan's hand, turning it over and pulling Ryan's wrist to his mouth. " I'm glad you came," Jon mutters against Ryan's skin. Ryan shudders.

"Haven't done that yet," Ryan says.

Ryan pushes Jon back against the couch cushions and kisses him, Jon's arms automatically going around Ryan's waist, pulling him close. They kiss for a long time, until Jon's lips tingle and he's making sounds every time Ryan pulls away to mouth along Jon's jaw or down the column of his throat. Jon's shirt has ridden up a little and he reaches around to push Ryan's up, too, just so they're skin to skin, and when Jon pushes his hips up restlessly, Ryan's there to meet the movement, hard and hot through his sweatpants.

"Do you want --" Jon breaks away so he can suck Ryan's lower lip between his teeth, then tries again. "Do you want to go in the bedroom? There's more room in there," Jon says. "And a bed," he adds helpfully.

Ryan chuckles, brushing his lips against the side of Jon's face and pressing a kiss against Jon's temple. "You keep your bed in the bedroom?"

"Yeah, I know," Jon says. "Crazy, right?"

"Totally," Ryan says, sliding off Jon and the couch until he's kneeling on the floor between Jon's legs. Jon swallows as Ryan rubs his hands against Jon's thighs and pushes himself to his feet. He stretches out his hand and offers it to Jon. "Come on."

Jon's living room is right next to his bedroom, but they keep getting held up along the way. Ryan presses up behind Jon and wraps his arms around Jon's waist, licking the back of Jon's neck. They stumble forward two more steps and get held up again when Jon turns around and pushes Ryan up against his bedroom door. Ryan gasps loudly at that and tucks his long fingers into Jon's jeans pockets, pulling him forward.

"You are really, really hot," Jon says, barely pulling away from Ryan's mouth to speak and already sex-stupid, but Ryan just laughs and starts to walk them toward the bed, leaning away when Jon tries to pull open the buttons on Ryan's shirt.

"What do you like?" Ryan asks, words catching on a gasp when Jon's fingers trip down his chest and stomach. "I'm, you know, a pretty flexible guy." Ryan shrugs off his shirt and lets it fall to the floor.

"Good to know," Jon says. He lifts up his arms so Ryan can pull his shirt over his head. "I can be convinced into pretty much anything if I'm turned on enough."

Ryan's small, secret smile appears. "Are you turned on enough now?" he asks, and rubs his palm right over the front of Jon's pants. Jon moans and has to sit down on the edge of the bed. "Never mind," Ryan says, and his smile widens.

Ryan gets Jon's jeans off quickly, and Jon can't do anything but breathe shallowly and clutch his hands in the sheets as Ryan presses kisses to his ankle and licks his way up and over Jon's knees and thighs. By the time Ryan's kissing Jon's hip, Jon is already pretty close to begging. It's insane how much Jon wants this, and when Ryan looks up, catching Jon's eye just before closing his mouth over the head of Jon's dick, Jon nearly sobs from relief.

Ryan's good with his mouth, just like he promised, and so hot that after a couple of minutes, Jon actually can't watch his dick disappear between Ryan's lips anymore. As pretty as the sight is, it feels even better, and the combination is just sensory overload. Jon doesn't want to come right away.

"Ryan, Jesus, oh god," Jon says, staring at the ceiling, lifting up when Ryan wraps his fingers around the base of Jon's cock, jacking Jon while sucking him down. Jon squeezes Ryan's shoulder a little frantically and chokes out, "I'm gonna --" Ryan pulls off and Jon comes all over his belly and Ryan's hand. He feels absolutely wrung out and relaxed and really fucking happy as he flops backwards onto his bed.

It turns out that Ryan's pretty smug after getting someone off. He laughs and climbs up on the bed next to Jon, dragging his finger through the mess on Jon's stomach and leaning over to steal another kiss. Jon can barely get the muscles in his mouth to work, but he lets Ryan work his tongue inside. He moans softly when Ryan bites at his bottom lip and pulls back, propping his head up with one arm and smirking smugly.

"Give me a minute," Jon says, shifting closer and pressing the side of his thigh against Ryan. "It's been awhile."

"I've got awhile," Ryan says.

+

The next morning Jon wakes up over-warm and aching pleasantly in ways he hasn't ached in a long time. His alarm is buzzing insistently, even though the last thing he wants to do is drag himself out of bed and into work, especially when he has a naked guy in his bed, contentedly snoring through Jon's alarm clock.

Ryan had kept him up pretty late last night, not that Jon protested too hard. It figured that the hot guy who Jon was trying to forget not only would come to his city and knock on his door, but would be great in bed, too. Jon only hopes that he kept up okay.

He tries sliding out of bed without disturbing Ryan's sleep, but a hand shoots out from underneath the blankets and grabs Jon's arm.

"You can't possibly be awake," Ryan grumbles, tightening his grip when Jon halfheartedly tries to pull away.

"I'm not really," Jon admits. "But I blew off work early yesterday to hang out with you, and my boss will kill me if I don't come in."

Ryan wrinkles his nose without opening his eyes, wordlessly telling Jon exactly what he thinks of his job. Jon's sorry to leave Ryan behind, but not everyone can be a rambling man.

+

"Wait," Andy says as Jon recounts most of the details from the night before, "so you fucked a homeless guy and then left him alone in your house while you went to work?"

Jon rolls his eyes. "You make it sound like I dug him out of the dumpster behind my house."

Andy shrugs. "You pretty much did. It's not like you really know much about this guy; for all you know he's making off with your precious collection of... uh. Okay, never mind, you don't have that much worth stealing."

"I really like him," Jon says. "Tom's met him, and he didn't get any weird vibes off him."

"Oh, like Tom is such a great judge of character," Andy says. "Didn't Tom meet Nick in a skeevy internet chat room when he was fifteen?"

"Yes," Jon admits. "But that worked out just fine, didn't it? And the cats like him."

Andy snorts. "Hell, if Tom and the cats like him, you might as well ask him to move in with you."

"See if I ever cover for you when you're about to get laid," Jon says.

+

When Jon gets home, Ryan's hanging out on the couch with a guilty expression. The smell of burnt food hangs in the air.

"You're a secret arsonist, aren't you?" Jon asks.

Ryan shakes his head. "Pyromaniac," Ryan says. "I'm sexually attracted to fire. It's a sickness, I know."

"I knew you were too good to be true. This guy I work with thought you were going to make off with all my worldly possessions."

"Was I going to shove your TV into my guitar case or something?"

"Or something," Jon says. "So, why does it smell like burning in here?"

"There was a grilled cheese incident," Ryan says. "Clover got hungry and told me she was old enough to use the stove. She said to apologize for ruining one of your pans." Ryan grimaces a little, but Jon shrugs.

"I've had those pans since my freshman year of college," Jon says. "I could probably stand to buy new ones."

Ryan grins. "Good," he says. "But now you don't get my attempt at dinner. I wanted to thank you for being so nice to me and all on my stopover."

Jon's stomach drops a little at 'stopover,' and it must show on his face because Ryan tilts his head to one side and widens his eyes. It's the same face Dylan makes whenever he's about to curl up in Jon's lap and purr to cheer him up, but Jon tries to school his expression into something more neutral pretty fast. Seriously, this is nothing Jon didn't know and when Andy teased him about wanting Ryan to move in, that was really the furthest thing from his mind. Still, he'd thought Ryan might stick around for a little while at least. Jon's worth a few days, isn't he?

"Where are you headed next?" Jon says once he's pretty sure he can speak and keep things light. It comes out okay.

Ryan shrugs. "Just west. My phone's back on now, so I'm connected to the outside world. I wanted to hang out in California for awhile, my friend Z lives out there and she's awesome. There are a ton of clubs in L.A. that I want to play, and I'll probably stop in Vegas, too. It's home, even if I haven't lived there in a long time. I have people there."

Jon bites his lip and looks down. "You have people everywhere, don't you?" God, Jon's really trying not to sound like a jerk, but he's failing so, so miserably and now he wants his apartment floor to open up and swallow him whole.

"I have friends in lots of places," Ryan agrees. He moves a couple of inches closer to Jon. "I don't usually like people right away, though."

"Oh," Jon says. Hearing that helps a little, but Ryan's still moving on again and Jon will probably never see him again.

Ryan slides his hand underneath Jon's chin and tilts it up, making them look eye to eye. "You want to come with me?" Ryan asks. "You're really awesome to be around, and I could use the company. I swear you haven't lived until you've experienced truck stop food in twelve states."

"I have a job, dude," Jon says. "And rent and pets. Not everyone has the luxury of being able to run off whenever they want. I have responsibilities."

Ryan wrinkles his nose at the word responsibilities. "Okay, okay, sorry. It was just an idea."

They look at each other for a second and it's awkward and uncomfortable, but all Jon can think about is how much he wants Ryan. Like, inside his head he knows what a terrible idea this is and he knows he should take the easy out before he winds up in over his head, but he can't help leaning closer. He wishes he didn't find Ryan so fascinating, that sleeping with him had gotten him out of his system, but Jon wants more and more. It's stupid and fucked up how much Jon just wants to go with him.

Jon says, "You don't have to leave right away," just as Ryan says, "You could just take a few days off and then come back."

Jon shakes his head. "I just took days a few weeks ago to fly out to see Tom," Jon says, but he's already reaching down to grab Ryan's hand. Fuck. He has a car, he could just drive with Ryan for a few days so he doesn't have to hitchhike or use the rest of whatever money he's got. Jon could call in sick for a couple of days. His parents could watch the cats for a few days; after Dylan and Clover are over, his mom always talks about getting cats for herself but she never does it and then she's thrilled to see Dylan and Clover again. It might work. Jon slides his hand up Ryan's until his fingers grip Ryan's wrist tightly enough to tug him in. Ryan goes easily and their mouths meet in the middle.

He doesn't know what Ryan wants from him; maybe just some company for a while, maybe more, and it's scary not knowing. Jon wishes he didn't like how that felt so much. When he was little, his greatest accomplishment had been finally growing tall enough that he could ride roller coasters, and once he could, he'd go over and over because he loved the nervousness in his belly as the cars clicked up the track to the top almost as much he loved the drop after.

Right now he feels like he's practically at the top of the hill and maybe the drop will make him sick to his stomach, but he just can't wait.

"Yeah," Jon says against Ryan's mouth, "let's go. You and me."

Ryan grins and pushes Jon down onto the couch.

+

Jon's alarm goes off the next morning as usual, and before he even has a chance to roll over and hit snooze, someone's reaching over him to knock it off his bedside table.

"Rude," Jon says into Ryan's shoulder, but Ryan just snuffles in his sleep and rolls back over. Jon leans over to rescue his poor whining clock and settles down again, working up a game plan. He had thought maybe he could stall Ryan for a couple of days and get closer to the weekend, but Ryan seemed antsy to get away. Jon's never met anyone so desperate for new scenery, and it makes something twinge in the back of his head, something that says, 'Get as far away from this as you can, man.'

Jon glances over, his eyes starting to adjust to the dim light in the room, and he can just barely make out the features of Ryan's face and his hair flat against the pillow, and Jon doesn't want to think about what it'd be like to never look at him again. This sucks.

He pulls himself out of bed and pads around his kitchen while he calls into work the coward's way, leaving a rushed message on his boss's voicemail saying that he doesn't feel well and he doesn't think he'll make it in today, but if they need him for an emergency, they have his number. Jon really hopes there aren't any emergencies, especially not once they're out on the road.

"Jon?" Ryan stands in Jon's doorway wearing only his underwear, rubbing at his eyes and looking a little confused by all the light and movement. Ryan had told Jon that he usually wakes up around one on a good day, so all this nine to five schedule stuff is completely beyond him. Jon hadn't been surprised by that at all.

"Hey," Jon says. "Morning."

"It's early," Ryan says. "I don't think I've been awake this early since I was in high school, and even then I'd sleep as late as possible." He ruffles his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. "I'm not a morning person."

Jon laughs. "Neither am I, really," he says. "In college, I used to deliberately schedule all my classes for the afternoons, and I never bothered with Fridays at all." But things change. Jon grew up and got a real job and realized that the world wasn't about to adjust so it could revolve around him; he guesses Ryan's never had to have that realization. "Come on; back to bed," Jon says, walking over to Ryan and subtly pushing him back into the bedroom. "I'm officially on sick time now, so we'd better make sure I get lots of rest."

Ryan smiles over his shoulder at Jon. "I'll take good care of you," Ryan promises.

+

It's the afternoon by the time they finally roll out of bed and Jon settles things for the cats. His mom had seemed confused, since he'd just left Clover and Dylan with her a few weeks earlier, but his mother has never asked a lot of questions. "We trust you, Jonny," she always tells him. "You make good choices." Jon isn't too sure about that, especially when Ryan refuses to get out of the car so Jon can introduce them saying he doesn't _do_ parents, and when Jon tells him it'll only be two minutes, Ryan puts on an oversized pair of mirrored sunglasses and refuses to look in Jon's direction until Jon changes the subject.

Jon says goodbye to the cats like he's never going to see them again, scooping them both up for hugs while they yowl and claw him in protest. The one adult decision he never regrets is surrounding himself with warm, fuzzy bodies, even if they're more interested in attacking his mother's plants than in him.

Once they're out on the road, Jon realizes how stupid he's being because he didn't even think to ask Ryan, "Hey, do you even have a driver's license?" at any point. "I'm going to have to drive this clunker back here by myself, and I like driving, so I don't mind doing most of the legwork, but it'd be nice to be able to turn the wheel over to you every once in awhile."

Ryan laughs and digs into his back pocket for a wallet so he can show Jon a Las Vegas license. There's an address there, so Jon guesses Ryan at least had a residence somewhere fairly recently, even if he doesn't now. Or maybe he does; Jon doesn't know, but he supposes he has the time to ask now. "Do you think I could get a drink anywhere if I didn't have proof of age?" Ryan says.

"Hey, you could be flashing your passport everywhere, I don't know!" Jon says. "Not that I wouldn't card you, because I _totally would_. You look like a giant baby."

"Says the guy who's had me naked in his bed the last two nights," Ryan says. He pushes his seat back so he can prop one foot up on the dashboard. "Are you into that?" Ryan asks. "Giant babies?"

Jon nods sadly. "It's a really specific fetish. The whole Tom getting married thing was a ruse; I've really been scouring the country looking for a giant baby to fulfill my needs and I found you."

Ryan laughs, then stops suddenly. "This is a pretty disturbing conversation."

"Let's change the subject," Jon suggests.

Ryan laughs and flips his glasses up, reaching over to squeeze Jon's leg. "With you here, I'm a lot less lonely than I usually am," he says, and Jon's glad.

+

They stop at a gas station after about two hours, loading up on chips and sodas and a baseball cap with foam rubber hands that clap when you pull a string. Jon wants to blame those on Ryan, but he can't because he fell in love the second he put it on his head and got to applaud things like Ryan deciding between Snickers and Twix and how many flavors of Powerade a gas station minimart could hold. His applause gets significantly more enthusiastic when they get to the coffee station.

"You're a caffeine addict," Ryan says.

"Duh," Jon replies. "I don't think I've gone a day without coffee since I was fourteen."

"Yeah, I can tell," Ryan says. He places his hand on top of Jon's head. "Stunted your growth."

Jon grimaces. "I'm average height, thank you very much."

"Maybe for a Smurf," Ryan says and jogs away, laughing.

"Just for that I'm not paying for your beef jerky!" Jon yells after him.

"Your mom's paying for my beef jerky!" Ryan calls back, and Jon's hat applauds him.

+

The plan Jon worked out while he was planning the route is to drive Ryan to Cheyenne, which is about halfway between Chicago and Vegas. That way Jon won't have to lie his way out of more than three days of work and can be around to offer to come in on the weekend at his regular rate. Cheyenne's a big enough city that Ryan should be able to find his way from there, unless he decides to hitch in a pink suit jacket or something. Not that Jon wouldn't give a dude in a pink suit jacket a ride, but Jon's not most guys, and if Jon's not most guys, Ryan definitely isn't. Jon has to remind himself that Ryan's perfectly capable of getting around alone; hell, Jon only met him a month ago and he knows Ryan's been traveling by himself forever.

"When do you want to stop?" Jon asks, looking up from his phone. He'd just replied to a text that Tom sent and ignored a few from Andy. "There's got to be somewhere cheap around here we can stay the night."

Ryan had taken over the wheel after dinner, but that was nearly three hours ago. The thing that surprised Jon about Ryan's driving was how slow and cautious he was. Actually, that was too nice an estimation: Ryan drove like Jon's grandfather who was eighty and wore Coke-bottle thick glasses. Jon's pretty sure he's never ridden with someone his age who only stuck to the right lane on a highway and most of the time drove five miles under the speed limit. Jon thinks about asking Ryan about it, but counting every car that comes right up to their car's bumper, only to gun its engine and switch lanes to go around them is actually a fun road game. Jon is up to thirty-six.

"We can stop whenever you want," Ryan says. "I'm flexible."

"You keep saying that," Jon says. "One of these times I'm really going to make you prove it."

Ryan's grip on the wheel tightens and he glances over to the passenger seat; Jon likes it better now that it's dark and Ryan's eyes aren't hidden behind his sunglasses. "I told you, Jon -- I'm flexible," he says.

Twenty minutes later, Jon points to an off-ramp advertising lodging, but none of the name brands of a Weston or a Ramada, so it's got to be one of those cheapy motels where truckers stay the night and everyone else stays the hour. But that's fine with Jon, and apparently Ryan, too, who pulls off as soon as Jon points.

The kid behind the counter is protected by a plastic booth, and he's a little younger than Jon and Ryan, wearing a Legalize It! t-shirt with one too many holes. He regards them both with sleepy eyes and slumped shoulders, practically silent as Jon pays and he hands over the key.

Jon shrugs as they head back outside. "Weird kid," Jon says.

"Yeah," Ryan says, his eyes darting back toward the front desk. "Hey," he says, suddenly gripping Jon's arm, "you want to go up to the room? There's something I want to do first. It'll only take a minute."

Jon raises his eyebrows, but he's not really sure he has the right to demand information out of Ryan, so he nods and walks away whistling, twirling their room key around his index finger. He's only alone in the room for two minutes -- just long enough to check out the green shag carpeting that hasn't been replaced since 1972 and the bobble-covered blanket thrown over the bed. There's wood paneling on the walls and the TV takes quarters. Awesome.

Ryan's grinning and breathless when he comes into the room a minute later. "Jackpot," he says, and he opens up his hand, showing Jon two joints. "I knew that kid was holding."

"Duh," Jon says.

"He's way baked right now," Ryan says. "Let me have these for free after I mentioned a couple of Bob Weir facts I learned off Wikipedia, like, six months ago. I love dudes who give away their weed."

Jon laughs. "Do dudes just hand over their weed to you a lot?" he asks.

"Not just dudes," Ryan says. "I'm equal opportunity. But you'd be surprised."

Since Jon's met Ryan, he's really, really not.

"Wait, shit," Ryan says, eyes wide. "I know you drink, but -- like, I'm not really into high-pressure tactics and I can go outside if you want."

Jon laughs and shakes his head. "Dude, are you even paying attention to me?"

"Well, I did notice the flip-flops," Ryan says, "and the whole mellow Zen personality thing you've got going on half the time, but I thought that might be caffeine withdrawal.

"It is a little," Jon says. "But I get pretty wound up sometimes. My mom says that most of the time I'm just a popcorn kernel sitting still in a jar, but put enough heat under me and I blow up."

"Then I'll try not to get on your bad side," Ryan says.

"You're doing a really good job so far," Jon says, and they grin dopily at each other.

Jon walks into the bathroom and grabs a towel, shoving it under the hotel room door.

"Are you trying to throw the guy at the front desk off the trail?" Ryan asks. He climbs up on the bed and sits cross-legged, flicking open a silver lighter he'd dug out of his pocket. "Because I think he might be onto us."

Jon laughs. "I don't know, really. Out of habit? The other guests? I don't want some huge trucker guy pounding on our door and trying to steal our weed."

"You're pretty paranoid for a sober dude," Ryan says.

"Well, let's change half of that," Jon replies. He gets on the bed, facing Ryan so their knees touch and watches while Ryan sparks up. Jon likes the process of inebriation almost as much as being fucked up; mixing drinks and coming up with random new things that his friends ask him to duplicate is on par with getting the right balance of milk and sugar in his coffee. And watching Ryan as he fumbles with his lighter and sucks on the end of the joint is a really good floor show. Or bed show, as the case may be.

Ryan inhales and coughs, then starts laughing, which makes him cough some more.

"Been awhile?" Jon asks, reaching over to pinch the joint out of Ryan's fingers. He takes a hit and immediately starts coughing, too. "Oh god, gross."

"No," Ryan says, still laughing, "but that is the worst weed in the entire history of weed. It brings skunk to a whole new level."

"No wonder he wants to legalize it," Jon says. "The quality would go up astronomically."

Jon doubles anyway and hands back to Ryan, who takes a full minute to stop laughing completely.

+

Later on, after they burn through both crappy joints, Jon is happy and lazy without being sleepy, and Ryan is touchy. Not in a sexy way exactly, more like everything about Jon is fascinating, and Jon's happy to oblige. He lets Ryan undress him while mostly ignoring Ryan marveling about how material feels under his fingertips. Not that Jon doubts Ryan's claims, it's just that he doesn't think Ryan would be quite so appreciative of Jon's t-shirt and jeans if he weren't also a little fucked up.

"Cotton is fucking amazing," Ryan says, pulling Jon's boxers over his hips. "It's a plant and it becomes clothes! Can you imagine being a plant that turns into other stuff?"

"No," Jon says, and props himself up on his elbows so he can kiss Ryan. He's already half-hard from all of Ryan's not quite focused touching, and he won't mind having to jerk himself off if Ryan falls asleep or gets distracted when he realizes how cool the bedspread feels, but he figures he should try anyway. Luckily, Ryan goes with it right away, opening up his mouth to Jon and letting Jon pull his clothes off, too, until they're pressed up against each other.

"Skin feels even better than _clothes_ ," Ryan says.

"I like skin," Jon agrees.

"And you're _warm_ ," Ryan continues, like being warm is the best invention since sliced bread. Jon could totally go for warm bread right now, but he's too busy nosing along the side of Ryan's neck and dragging his fingers up and down Ryan's rib cage. Jon kisses Ryan's jaw and waits until Ryan opens his eyes to kiss his mouth again. When they're looking at each other, Ryan gasps like he's surprised just before Jon leans in, and it's a really nice sound. Jon likes making Ryan make sounds.

Jon shifts closer and grabs Ryan's ass, and Ryan hums against Jon's lips.

"You have nice hands," Ryan says. "They're all warm like the rest of you."

This is possibly the stupidest dirty talk Jon's ever heard, but Ryan's got this deep, even voice and he could probably recite the Gideon bible hidden away in the hotel room's nightstand and still have some effect.

"I want lube," Ryan says suddenly, and rolls off the bed. Jon's not expecting it at all, his hand still shaped into the curved hold that matches Ryan's body.

Jon tilts his head and squints across the room. They need more light in the room, he decides, the dull neon of the Vacancy sign outside not really doing it for him. He switches on the bedside lamp, which can't have more than a 25-watt bulb, but Ryan shields his eyes against the sudden light anyway.

"Did you want to fuck?" Jon asks, when Ryan tosses the lube at him. They did that once, the first night, Jon inside Ryan with one of Ryan's knees folded up to his chest. Jon's so relaxed now that he probably could bottom even though it's been awhile for him, but Ryan didn't get the condoms when he got the lube out of Jon's bag. Jon's not nearly fucked up enough to agree to that.

But Ryan shakes his head. He uncaps the bottle and climbs back on the bed, pouring out a handful over his fingers and some on Jon's stomach. Jon reaches down to touch the spill with one finger, then two. Ryan grabs Jon's hand and turns it over so he can pour the lube into Jon's hand, which only winds up with Ryan spilling out more of his handful onto Jon's chest.

"What now?" Jon asks. Ryan dips his head to steal another kiss and pinches Jon's nipple. The wet feel of the lube sharpens the sensation, and Jon gasps.

"Do you like that?" Ryan asks, sounding pleased with himself.

"I like you touching me," Jon says. He makes a fist with his hand, spreading the slick to his fingertips, reaching out to lightly press his fingers against Ryan's throat. "I like touching you, too," he says, dragging his fingers down and down until they're wrapped tight around Ryan's cock. Ryan thrusts forward into Jon's fist.

"Together," Ryan says, and Jon knows what's coming, but he moans anyway when Ryan touches his dick. Jon doesn't usually jerk off with lube -- it's usually spit or a quick stroke in the shower -- and this is a fun change. He likes the way Ryan squeezes him and twists on the upstroke, the way Ryan keeps looking down at Jon's hand, trying to match the rhythm and movement, then back up at Jon's face. Ryan's cheeks have a dull flush, and when Jon pushes his thumb down just right, Ryan shudders and mumbles, " _Jon_."

Every time Ryan does that, Jon has to kiss him. He likes the way his name tastes on Ryan's mouth.

It doesn't take either of them long; Jon keeps pressing closer to Ryan until there's really only room for their hands between them and their kissing goes messy and desperate. When Ryan bites down on Jon's shoulder, Jon cries out and comes suddenly. Just as Jon recovers, Ryan's wrapping his hand around Jon's and they jack Ryan off together, Ryan repeating, "Jon, Jon, Jon" as he comes.

Afterward, even though he knows he'll regret it in the morning, Jon's too tired to even think about cleaning up, and they fall asleep wrapped around each other with the bedside table still burning into the night.

+

Ryan's playing Jon's acoustic softly when Jon wakes up, wearing an old pair of gym shorts and sitting cross-legged in a beat-up armchair, humming to himself. There's a notebook open on the table next to him and Jon catches him leaning over to jot down notes.

"Morning," Jon says, blinking his eyes open. He reaches down to scratch at the flaking, itchy mess on his stomach and wrinkles his nose.

Ryan looks up. "Morning, sleepyhead."

"I thought you never got up before one," Jon says.

"Sometimes I like switching things up," Ryan says. "No, I just woke up with a song in my head, and wanted to get it down."

"And you needed my guitar for that?"

Ryan shrugs. "Your guitar has a nice sound; I thought it fit the idea."

Jon pulls the sheet around him and sits up. "Can I hear it?" he asks.

"Sure, if you want," Ryan says, and it makes Jon happy to hear how happy Ryan is by that request. "It's not really anything yet. But it could be."

"I know that feeling," Jon says with a smile.

Ryan doesn't answer, just looks down at the strings with a smile of his own playing at the corners of his lips. Ryan's written a ballad, something sweet and lilting, but also still a little too repetitive and predictable. It's a song about wanting something indefinable, about how that's more confusing than having a goal, and Jon sees the potential in it right away.

"You know, if you sang the first two verses before the chorus and sped up the tempo, I bet it would work better." Jon slides out of bed, intending to pick up Ryan's guitar and show him what he means, forgetting that he's naked and still reeks of sex. Ryan laughs at him, but he's still waiting expectantly after Jon ducks in and out of the bathroom to clean up.

Once Jon has pants on again, he shows Ryan what he means, and they tighten up the melody and music together, until they're harmonizing and grinning at each other and the guy at the front desk is banging on the door and yelling that checkout's at eleven.

It's weird; music's never come that easy to Jon before, not even when he was in his crappy little bands and living and breathing the scene. Yeah, he definitely stayed up late playing his guitar or tooling around with bass parts, trying to fit them around dumb lyrics that dripped with high school drama, but that was nothing like this.

Jon feels stupid thinking it, but his music fits with Ryan's, and what they'd done made _Ryan_ 's music better, too, like Ryan doesn't have to be just some guy playing his acoustic in terrible bars and trying to make himself heard over a bunch of people who are waiting for the next band.

Jon doesn't know what to do with that.

+

They hit a diner before getting on the road again. Jon's chewing on a piece of toast when he realizes he forgot to call into work, and he nearly spits his food out onto his plate because he's so surprised by his own stupidity. He runs into the men's room to drown out the music playing on the restaurant's tinny overhead speakers, and calls his job. And he's lucky, _so fucking lucky_ , because he gets his boss's answering service and leaves a croaky message saying that he still feels like shit and he'd slept through his alarm.

After he hangs up, he bangs his head against the bathroom tile and feels like an idiot. That's something they could easily fire him over. Jon can't believe he forgot his _life_ after a little weed, some sex, and music.

Ryan twists around in his chair and smiles as Jon comes out of the bathroom, and something in Jon's chest just melts. He's so far gone that he knows he has to turn back before he can't do it anymore.

"Everything all right?" Ryan asks. "The waitress saw you book and asked if you were barfing."

Jon shakes his head. "I'm fine. I remembered something I forgot."

Ryan raises an eyebrow. "And you found it in the bathroom?"

"No," Jon says. "I didn't call in this morning, and I'm going to get in so much trouble when I get back to work."

Ryan frowns a little. "I just don't understand why you even bother."

"Because I have to." Jon feels suddenly annoyed with himself, and maybe a little with Ryan, too, even though that's unfair. Ryan hadn't held a gun to his head, and it wasn't Ryan's fault that Jon liked him so damned much. "Just never mind, okay?" Jon says.

Ryan nods.

"Are you ready to go?" Jon asks.

Ryan nods again.

They drive for awhile with only the radio for noise, until Ryan reaches over and squeezes Jon's knee. "I'm really glad you came along," Ryan says. "I forget, sometimes, how much I like other people. It's easier not to, I guess." He shrugs. "People hurt each other a lot."

"I don't hurt people," Jon says.

"Sure you do," Ryan says. "Not on purpose, maybe, but there's got to be someone -- maybe your mom, or an ex-girlfriend or boyfriend, someone at your job or even your cats, I bet. We're all disappointing someone somehow."

Jon doesn't reply and keeps his focus on the road.

+

They hit Cheyenne right around sunset, and Ryan looks a little confused when Jon takes the exit. Jon's trying to decide if giving Ryan money for a hotel or food or whatever is insulting or just a nice thing to do when Ryan tugs on Jon's sleeve.

"It's kind of early to stop," Ryan says. "I can take over driving if you want."

Jon shoots Ryan a look of confusion. "We're in Wyoming," he says.

"Yeah, and? We've been in Wyoming for hours."

"And I told you when I said I'd take a couple of days off that I could only go halfway to Vegas with you," Jon says. "This is halfway. I'm already missing three days and I fucked up this morning, so I can't miss being available this weekend if they need me."

Ryan's face falls, and Jon feels awful about it, even though he hasn't done anything wrong. "I didn't think you were serious," Ryan says.

Jon shoots him an incredulous look. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you don't want to go home," Ryan says, like it's the easiest thing in the world. "The only thing you want in Chicago are your cats."

Jon knows there's some truth to what Ryan's saying, but feels angry anyway. It's not that simple to just up and walk away from everything, even if right now he maybe wishes it could be. "You've got it so easy," Jon says.

"What?"

"You do," Jon says. "You don't have any responsibilities, and you're so obviously used to getting your way."

Now it's Ryan's turn to look incredulous. "You barely know me," Ryan says. "You don't know anything about my life or how used to getting my way I am."

"Well, and now I'll never find out because no matter what I want, I've got to go. Have a nice life, Ryan," Jon says, and he wants to sound angry when he says it, but it just comes out tired. When he pulls into a gas station parking lot and cuts the engine, he can't look anywhere but straight ahead, his knuckles white from squeezing around the steering wheel.

"Fuck, Jon," Ryan says. Out of the corner of Jon's eye, he can see Ryan shifting closer and reaching out. When Ryan's fingers brush against Jon's jaw, Jon knows he shouldn't react, but he closes his eyes and leans into the touch. "I'm sorry, yeah, go home if you need to. I know you have, like, this whole life built up and I swear I'm not trying to fuck that up for you. I don't want to hate you. I _like_ you," Ryan says, and he sounds so earnestly sincere that Jon turns to look at him.

"I like you, too," Jon admits.

"You're fun to be around, and I really haven't stopped thinking about you since I met you," Ryan says. "And then on top of that you're an awesome musician, and I just thought --" Ryan sighs. "I don't know what I thought. I know I can't keep you with me, but I don't want you to go."

Jon bites his lip and shakes his head. "I don't want to go."

"So _don't_ ," Ryan says. "Please." He rakes his fingers through Jon's hair, and tugs him over the console for a kiss.

When they break apart, Jon turns the car back on.

+

Just after midnight, they stop for the night right outside the Wyoming/Utah border. If they get an early enough start, they should probably make it to Vegas by mid-afternoon, and then Jon can freak out about what he wants to do again. He doesn't take any chances with work, though, at least not more than he's already taking, setting the alarm clock on his and Ryan's phones, along with requesting a wake up call from the skeevy front desk. The lady behind the counter laughs at him when he asks, but he'd tried, and that's the important thing.

At six in the morning, Jon's phone goes off, Ryan's following five minutes later. Jon disentangles himself from Ryan's octopus-like knot of arms and legs, and creeps off to the bathroom to call his job. No one will be there this early, but at least this way Jon's jobs can be reassigned and Andy will get another partner for the day.

Someone answers on the first ring. "Jon?" his boss says.

"Oh," Jon says, caught off-guard. "Hey, Mike, I didn't expect you to be there so early." He coughs once for effect.

"I bet you didn't," Mike says. "Calling out again?"

"Yeah, sorry," Jon says apologetically. "I just can't shake this bug."

His boss sighs. "So I guess this also means you can't pick up any extra shifts this weekend to make up for not coming into work this week?"

Jon swallows, and it's not much of an effort to make his voice into a croak when he says, "No, I'm sorry." Jon clears his throat. "You know that if it were any other time, I'd do it," he says. "You know I'm a good worker, and I --"

"I do," Mike interrupts. "I know you're a very good worker, careful, and good with customers. I know you and Andy make a great team, and I know that until a few weeks ago you were a model employee. Everyone slacks off every once in awhile, and you know that I'm a fair guy."

"I know." In the two years Jon's been working for him, Mike has been very good to him. "I'm just sick," Jon says.

"Well, feel better," Mike says, and his voice is a little kinder than it had been a moment earlier. "At least it's Friday. We all look forward to seeing you back to your old self again Monday morning."

Jon sighs and hangs up the phone. He goes back to sleep for another hour, Ryan curling up around him instantly without waking up, and it makes the tension in Jon's chest loosen a little.

+

Ryan drives most of the last leg, and his careful old man driving melts into something resembling the driving of someone his age as they get closer and closer to Vegas. In the last hour, Jon starts humming "Viva Las Vegas," and Ryan laughs and joins in. Jon watches as they whiz by the exits advertising the Strip and shows and helicopter tours of the Grand Canyon, and when Ryan finally pulls off the road, they're in normal suburbia. They drive past cul-de-sacs with rows and rows of matching houses on identical streets, and Jon's almost impressed by the uniformity. Sure, he grew up in the suburbs, too, but somehow they weren't so homogenous. The Stepfordness is almost impressive.

"So this is where you grew up?" Jon says, gesturing out the window.

Ryan nods. "Viva, viva Las Vegas -- Summerlin, to be exact. Exciting, isn't it?"

"Las Vegas must be so boring for a kid," Jon realizes. It's strange to think of Las Vegas as boring, but it's not like a sixteen-year-old can saunter into a casino and drop few dollars into a video poker machine and get comped for drinks.

Ryan laughs. "Yeah, and no one ever believes it," he says. "Now do you understand why I left?"

"Not entirely," Jon says, but he lets it drop. They have enough time for that.

A few more twists and turns later and Ryan is pulling into a circular driveway in front of a ranch house painted a bright robin's egg blue. Jon likes it immediately because it's the only house in the neighborhood painted that color, making it stand out. Nothing else stands out at all.

"Come on," Ryan says, turning off the engine. "One of them is probably home."

Jon isn't sure who Ryan means by them, but he gets out of the car anyway. Maybe Ryan's parents, but Jon doesn't think so, not with the way he'd reacted to meeting Jon's mom for even a couple of minutes.

"Who's 'them'?" Jon asks.

Ryan smiles. "You'll see in a minute." He jogs up the steps and rings the doorbell. Jon listens carefully and hears the sound of footsteps thumping closer and closer until the door's flung open and a guy about Ryan and Jon's age grins at them.

"Sorry, if you're selling something, I'm not -- _Ryan_?"

"You're in no way Ryan," Ryan confirms, flipping his sunglasses to the top of his head. "Jon Walker, this is one of my tenants, Brendon Urie."

"Nice to meet you," Brendon chirps, then leans in to swat Ryan's arm. "I hate it when you call me that. It makes me feel like I'm just a business relationship to you."

"That _is_ all you are to me," Ryan says, and it sounds a little mean with his flat voice, but Brendon seems unfazed by it.

Brendon opens the door wider and walks inside with Ryan and Jon following. Jon looks around. It's a normal family house, the kind that usually has two parents and a few kids, but there are clothes all over the floor and empty beer cans and overflowing ashtrays all over every available surface.

"I didn't know you were coming home," Brendon says, shoving some of the mess off the couch and onto the floor. He turns his attention to Jon finally, flashing him a not entirely friendly smile. "Spencer's going to be mad you didn't call. And I didn't think you were bringing company," he goes on. "That's not like you, Ryan."

Ryan shrugs. "Jon's awesome and I wanted him to come with me, even though he keeps trying to escape back to Chicago."

"We drove from there," Jon explains.

Brendon's smile loses a bit of its edge. "You drove in a car from Chicago to here with only Ross for company? God, you must be an angel."

"I'm not that bad!" Ryan protests. "Don't be an asshole."

"Can't help it," Brendon says and shrugs. He climbs into Ryan's lap and wraps his arms around Ryan's neck; Jon tries not to think anything mean about him. "But it's not like you're getting rid of me anyway."

Ryan shoves Brendon off again. "I know, fuck. Spencer won't let me."

"He should be home soon," Brendon says.

Ryan looks pleased. "Good, I want him to meet Jon, too. Spencer's Brendon's roommate," Ryan tells Jon.

Brendon gives Jon another once-over, but Jon doesn't have time to analyze it because Ryan stands again and tugs Jon to his feet.

"Come on, I want to show you something," Ryan says.

He guides Jon into a bedroom at the end of a hallway. The mess of the rest of the house stops just outside the door, and inside it looks like a perfect capture of Jon's high school bedroom, complete with neutral blue plaid bedspread and band posters wallpapering every available surface.

"This is my room," Ryan explains, even though Jon had pretty much already worked that out. "Sort of."

"You grew up here," Jon says. "In this room, I mean."

Ryan nods. "My dad and I lived here from the time I was little. He told me we used to live somewhere else, but I don't remember that, so as far as I'm concerned, I was born here." He slides open a closet door and starts flicking through the clothes on the rack; when Jon leans over Ryan's shoulder, it's mostly a sea of band t-shirts, nothing like anything Jon's ever seen Ryan wear out.

"Where's your dad now?" Jon asks curiously.

"Dead," Ryan says matter-of-factly. He flicks a glance at Jon over his shoulder -- gauging his reaction maybe, which is understandable. Jon's not going to pretend like he's not surprised, though. "He was an alcoholic and liked to gamble and just never really caught a break. But he was my dad and he loved me and he left me a house I didn't want."

"And your mom?" Jon asks.

"She left my dad when I was five. It was just us after that. I talk to her sometimes, but she's never exactly all there," Ryan says. "I like her and she's a good person, but she's not a good mother."

"Oh," Jon says. He doesn't know what else to say. He doesn't know if he should say anything at all, or if Ryan just wanted to tell him something private. "Well, I like your room. It's very well-preserved."

Ryan laughs. "I keep telling Brendon it's okay to fix this room up however he wants, but he said he couldn't turn this room into something else because then I wouldn't have anywhere to stay when I came home. Then he uses these big puppy dog eyes and gets his way." He sits down on his little twin bed and pats the spot next to him for Jon. "I like renting to Brendon and Spencer. I've known them both for years, and it's good I'm keeping the house in the family, but honestly this hasn't been my home for a long time." He puts his hand on Jon's knee. "I'm not asking you to pity me. I just wanted you to know."

Jon covers Ryan's hand with his and smiles. "Did you also bring me here to defile your childhood bedroom?"

Ryan rolls his eyes. "I've done that lots of times," he says, pushing Jon back on the bed. "But I could definitely do it again."


	3. The Young Veins RPS Fic: Roam Around Around Around (3/3), Jon/Ryan, NC-17, 27,500 words

The famous Spencer appears about an hour later, after Jon and Ryan reemerge from Ryan's room with swollen lips and messy hair. Brendon smiles at them from the couch. He seems to be the picture of innocence, casually flipping through television channels, but when Ryan passes by him, he moans "'Oh, oh, oh _Jon_!'"

"You're such an asshole," Ryan says mildly.

Brendon grins. "I like to give credit where it's due," he says, and looks at Jon. "Kudos, dude I met five minutes ago."

"Hey, that was way longer than five minutes," Jon says, and Brendon laughs.

"Why are we all laughing?"

Jon jumps a little, and twists around. There's a new person there, another guy their age, tall and bearded, and he seems to be taking in everything. He looks at Jon for a really long time.

"Just giving commentary on the show you walked in on," Brendon says, just as Ryan says, "Spencer!" and walks over to him. Ryan holds up his hand for a high five, but Spencer yanks him in for a hug.

"Did you fucking lose your phone again, you fucker?" Spencer says while still holding onto him. "I'm going to kill you and dump the body in Lake Mead one of these days, I swear to fucking god." He lets go and grabs Ryan by the shoulders, critically looking him up and down. Jon's weirdly reminded of his mother and how she does that right before telling him he hasn't eaten or slept enough, and Jon's halfway expecting Spencer to lecture Ryan.

"I didn't lose it," Ryan says, scratching his head. "It got turned off, I don't know. It's been back on for a couple of days." Ryan seems to remember Jon's there then, and turns around. "Spence, this is my friend, Jon. He drove with me from Chicago."

Spencer turns his attention to Jon again. "I guess that's your car in our driveway, right?"

Jon nods.

"Ryan usually makes his rides drop him off, so good work on the invite inside."

"I'm not that bad," Ryan says, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, sometimes you let them use the bathroom," Brendon pipes in.

Ryan laughs, but he also reaches over to grab Jon's hand and squeeze it. It's a nice feeling.

+

Not long after, Brendon sits in front of the TV and calls Jon over, asking if he wants to campaign in Call of Duty, and Jon has no idea how to play, but he agrees anyway. While they're playing, Jon learns that Ryan has known Spencer since they were little kids and Brendon since high school, and even though Brendon doesn't come right out and say it, Jon gets the feeling that when Ryan left Vegas to wander around the country, he didn't leave under the best circumstances.

"We don't really talk about it," Brendon says with a shrug, "but there was a long time when I didn't think I was Ryan's friend anymore."

Jon turns that over in his head, not wanting to pry. He glances around for Ryan and finds him sitting with Spencer, talking quietly, but they're both talking very quickly and with a lot of hand gestures. Whatever it's about, it's intense and probably none of Jon's business, and when he turns back around, Brendon is shooting him a sympathetic look.

"Don't worry; they're always like that," Brendon says. "You get used to it."

They order pizza for dinner because it's easiest and because Brendon says they haven't gone food shopping in weeks.

"We might have, if you'd called one of us to say you were coming," Spencer tells Ryan.

Jon's a little scared of Spencer, to be honest, but Ryan's unaffected. "What kind of landlord would I be if I didn't drop in on my tenants unannounced?" he asks, and he and Spencer get locked in a staring contest, which ends with Spencer cracking up. As it turns out, he's a lot less intimidating when he's smiling, and Jon relaxes a little. Eventually Spencer forgets about giving Ryan shit at every available opportunity, and he and Brendon get interested in Jon instead. Jon tells them about his life and how he and Ryan met, and about their drive, and how he used to be in bands but kind of fell out of it.

"But we wrote a song yesterday," Ryan says. "I'm gonna try to trick him into writing another one."

No one says anything to that, but Jon catches Brendon and Spencer exchanging wary glances. It's quick, though, and Jon doesn't know if Ryan notices it or not. He really doesn't know what it means.

+

After dinner, Ryan asks Jon if he wants to hit the Strip for a little while. Jon does -- he's been to Vegas before, but he figures if he's going to completely fuck up his professional life then gambling would be a good habit to fall back on. He invites Brendon and Spencer along, but they turn him down.

"They're homebodies," Ryan says once they're in the car. "Don't let that bother you."

Don't let that bother _you_ , Jon wants to say, but he keeps his mouth shut. He keeps thinking about this time when he was eighteen and he and Tom had this huge fight over the stupidest thing -- seriously, it was about digital cameras -- and didn't speak for days. Even when they did start talking again, it was still massively awkward for a long time. Jon thinks about what it would have been like if they hadn't seen each other so much after that, if maybe he ran halfway across the country to get away from Tom. He doesn't know what's going on with Ryan and his friends, but he figures if Ryan wants him to know, he'll tell him.

As it turns out, Ryan is a terrible gambler, so bad that it's almost funny watching him screw up his face when he loses and then go back to lose more money. Jon wins, though, enough that they break even, and Jon gets free drinks at the blackjack table, so he's warm and happy and just a little buzzed when they tumble back to Brendon and Spencer's house. The house is dark, but Ryan has a key, and he lets them in while putting a finger to his lips to be quiet. Jon laughs and lets Ryan lead him to his old bedroom.

Ryan's old twin bed is really too tight for two people to share, but Jon likes the closeness and the warmth, and he likes stretching out next to Ryan so they can kiss with no room between them. They lose their clothes pretty quickly, and Jon can't stop making sounds every time Ryan touches him or presses their mouths together. Ryan hadn't seemed to care much about being quiet earlier, but now he keeps shushing Jon whenever he makes noise, kissing Jon deeply or sliding his fingers inside Jon's mouth. Jon guesses it's because it's one thing to traumatize your television-watching friends with moaning, but it's just a jerk move to wake them up if you can avoid it. It sucks, though, because Ryan's hands and mouth feel so good and Jon _wants_ to make noise, even more now because he can't.

"Will you fuck me?" Jon asks, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Ryan's ear.

Ryan grins down at Jon. "Yeah, of course."

"You'll have to go slow, though," Jon says. "It's been awhile for me."

Ryan spends a lot of time fingering Jon beforehand, rolling Jon onto his stomach so he can lick around his fingers as he adds more, making Jon rock against the mattress and muffle his sounds in Ryan's pillow, feeling full and desperate. He fucks Jon on his side, spooning up behind him as he carefully thrusts in and out, going slow just like Jon asked and keeping Jon on edge for such a long time that Jon almost begs.

But that's nothing compared to how Ryan feels inside, his body curved behind Jon's, bony but warm, and his hand tight around Jon's dick, timing the movement of his hand to his hips. Jon bites his lip to keep anything other than the softest whines from spilling out as he shakes apart, and he wants to wrap himself up in the sound of Ryan's quiet, quick breathing close to his ear as the rhythm of his hips goes erratic while he comes.

"I hope we didn't wake anyone up," Jon says once Ryan pulls out again.

Ryan laughs. "We definitely tried our best."

+

Jon wakes up early the next morning, even earlier than usual with the time difference. Ryan's fast asleep, of course, his mouth wide open as he drools on the pillow. Jon thinks it's endearing before he can stop himself and he shakes his head at how far gone he is. He cracks his back to help relieve his muscle aches and goes on the hunt for food and coffee. Spencer's already in the kitchen when Jon pads in.

"Good morning," Jon says around a yawn. "I'm surprised anyone else is up this early."

"I have work," Spencer says and shrugs. "Sucks, but what are you gonna do?"

"You work?" Jon asks.

Spencer laughs. "Growing up with Ryan doesn't mean I picked up his personality. I'm a waiter. Sometimes I'm a drummer, often enough that I'm pretty happy with things as they are, but that doesn't pay too well. You want coffee?" he asks.

Jon nods fervently and Spencer pours a mug for him. "You're awesome," Jon says.

"So I'm told," Spencer says. "Did Ryan show you a good time last night?" He smiles at Jon over the rim of his mug, indicating he knows exactly how good a time Ryan showed him.

"Ryan's a shitty gambler," Jon says, not exactly answering the question.

"You'd think he'd have inherited some natural talent. His dad was a blackjack dealer," Spencer explains. "That's how we first met; my grandpa worked with his dad when we were little."

"I think that's cool," Jon says. "That you've been friends for so long, I mean."

Spencer sighs. "Look, you seem like a decent guy, which is the only reason I'm telling you this. Ryan's not exactly the greatest at relationships. Not just romantic ones -- any of them."

"What do you mean?" Jon asks, ignoring the tightness in his throat.

"I mean, Ryan's great. He's an earnest guy and fun to be around and as long as his attention's on you, you'll never get bored," Spencer says. "I'm surprised I kept his interest as long as I did."

"Wait," Jon interrupts, "you and Ryan weren't --"

Spencer looks horrified. " _No_. God, no. Not like that. But, like, Ryan and Brendon and me, back when we were younger, we were a band. And it wasn't anything that was going to go anywhere, not really, except in the way where you think that it _could_. Then Ryan's dad died and he dropped out of college --"

"Ryan was in college before his dad died?"

Spencer nods. "For two years. And after he dropped out, he stopped talking to everyone for six months and disappeared off the face of the planet. The next time I talked to him, he was calling from the middle of Nebraska, babbling about his house and how he couldn't face it anymore and how he wanted to rent it to me if I wanted to live there because he didn't want to sell it either. Ryan just wanted to wander around the country and escape, and I was so fucking angry at him for so long. Worried, too, but mostly angry. It took a long time to fix things, but they'll never be like they were." Spencer exhales and, after a second, Jon follows. It's silly, but he kind of wants to give Spencer a hug.

"I don't know," Spencer says after a minute. "Ryan likes you for real -- I can tell that. Just be careful, okay?"

"Okay," Jon says. He holds up the mug. "Thanks for the coffee."

Spencer smiles. "You're welcome."

+

Jon's mom calls him a little while later, but Ryan's still asleep so he goes outside to talk. The sun is still low in the sky, but it's already twenty degrees warmer than it would be in Chicago.

"Someone wants to talk to you," his mom says in a sing-song voice, and Jon's already saying, "no, no, no," before she can even get the words out of her mouth. It doesn't do any good, though, and soon Jon hears the rasp of cat fur against the mouthpiece and Clover-or-Dylan's annoyed yowl of protest. A second later his mom gets back on the line.

" _Mom_ ," Jon protests, embarrassed.

"I can't help that your babies miss you," she tells him cheerfully. "They've been asking for you all morning."

"Uh-huh," Jon says and rolls his eyes. He loves his cats, but he's sure they don't want to talk to him on the phone.

"So what can I tell them? Are they staying with Grandma forever?"

Jon shakes his head. "No, not forever."

"Good," she says. "I wouldn't want them to worry about you."

"Of course not. Hey, Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," Jon says, thinking about Ryan's parents and how lucky he is comparatively. "Thanks for being you."

"I love you, too, sweetie," his mother says, and Jon can hear her getting choked up. "See you soon, okay?"

"Yeah, definitely."

When they hang up, Jon calls Tom, too, just to see how things are going.

"Danielle's going to kill me," Tom says as soon as Jon gets a hello out. "Seriously, she's really creative with her death threats. Never get on her bad side."

"I never plan to," Jon says. "What have you done?"

"I'm still on the road," Tom says, "and I'm supposed to keep touring until two weeks before we're getting married."

Jon raises an eyebrow. "Uh, didn't she already know that?"

"Yes, but apparently there's a big difference between knowing that and having to fill out a hundred invitations by yourself after twelve hour work days."

"Yeah," Jon agrees. "You're a monster."

"Anyway, long story short, Danielle's heading back home early and now so am I. I'm cutting out of tour three dates early, so I'll see you back in Chicago sooner than we thought."

"Wow, okay." Jon wants to tell Tom about Ryan and Vegas and how confused he is right now, but Tom has enough going on in his own life without getting wrapped up in Jon's. He'll tell him when he gets home. "See you soon, dude."

+

After he comes back inside, Jon hangs out with Brendon for a little while. They play videogames, and Brendon keeps creaming him. Jon knows he's distracted and Brendon has picked up on that because he keeps sending Jon nervous looks and opening and closing his mouth like he wants to ask something but he doesn't know if it's his place. Finally he asks, "Are you okay?"

Jon nods. "I'm just tired."

The corners of Brendon's mouth turn up. "Yeah, I didn't think you got a lot of sleep last night."

Jon laughs. "Do you have a P.A. system installed in every room or something?"

"Nah," Brendon says. "Walls like paper, light sleeper, and interesting noises. You know how it is." He shrugs. "I know Ryan can be tiring, but he's not all bad."

"I know that," Jon says. "Do you think I'd be here if I seriously thought Ryan was all bad?"

"Maybe. He's pretty hot." Brendon grins slyly, and in another time, another place, Jon could see them being good friends. Maybe.

Ryan shuffles into the living room then, his hair sticking in seven different directions. He's yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and Jon just freezes looking at him. Today, it seems, is all about another time, another place.

"What's so funny?" Ryan asks around a yawn.

"Your face," Brendon tells him. Ryan flips him off.

Jon drops his controller and stands up. "Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?" he asks.

Ryan nods and Jon walks back toward Ryan's room, waiting for Ryan to follow.

"What's up?" Ryan asks once the door's closed behind them.

"I--" Jon sits on Ryan's bed and nervously wipes the sweat from his palms onto his jeans. "I'm going back home today," he says eventually. "This trip has been a lot of fun, probably the most fun I've had in a long time, and I don't regret a second of it, even if I might have sounded like I was sometimes, but I talked to my mom and Tom today, and I just can't stay here." Jon exhales hard and squeezes his eyes shut. It was hard to get all of that, harder than he'd even thought it was going to be.

"Oh," Ryan says eventually. "Okay."

Jon opens his eyes. "Okay?" he asks. "That's it?"

When Jon lifts his head, Ryan's face is carefully neutral. "Yeah, okay. What did you expect me to say? I knew you had to go sometime."

Jon stares at him. "I-- I don't know. You just protest so hard every time I even mention Chicago, but I can't keep living my life in a holding pattern."

"I know," Ryan says. "It's okay. We both know this wasn't forever." He sits down on the bed and pats Jon's hand. "I don't do forever."

Jon really hadn't been expecting it to be so easy, and now that it is, he wants Ryan to yell, to hate him, to throw him out of his house and never speak to him again. He wants this decision to be easy for him.

"Have a safe trip back," Ryan says.

Jon grabs Ryan's hand and squeezes it hard. "You could come with me," Jon says.

"What?" Ryan says. "No."

"No, come on, really," Jon says. "We work great together and my apartment is so big and empty." He wants to say, _My_ life _is so big and empty,_ but he can't get the words out of his mouth.

"Jon, I'm not going back to Chicago with you. That's not who I am."

Jon shakes his head. "I think you're just scared. Scared of me, or scared that maybe you don't know yourself as well as you think you do."

Ryan laughs. "Jesus, Jon, thanks for the free therapy. You should probably get the fuck out of my house now."

"No, Ryan, listen. I just... I think we could be really good together, like, for real, if you'd give us a chance. I didn't mean it the way it came out."

"Yeah, you did," Ryan says and stands up. "And if you were trying to make me mad, it worked."

Ryan stomps out of the room and a few seconds later, Jon hears the front door slam open and shut. Jon hangs around for a few hours, letting Brendon send him sympathetic looks until Spencer comes home from work, but Ryan never rematerializes and so Jon gets on the road just before nightfall with a heavy heart and a lump in his throat.

+

Jon drives straight home from Vegas, stopping once to sleep cramped in the backseat. He's so tired that he'd barely been able to keep his eyes on the road, but he can't stop thinking and sleep is hard coming. Jon feels like the scarf tied at the center of a tug-of-war rope, getting pulled in two different directions at once and it's _exhausting_.

When he finally pulls up in front of his parents' house, he lets his mother hug and fuss over him in a way that he hasn't since he was a little kids, but refuses to answer any of her concerned questions. At home, he lets Dylan and Clover curl around his head and purr him to sleep. It helps a little.

Work is happy to see Jon the next morning, so at least he still has a job. The upside to being exhausted and emotionally drained is that he really does look like he's been sick all week. Jon's able to pick up his life right where he dropped it, but as much as he worried about it when he and Ryan were on the road, being back feels pretty empty.

Ryan doesn't call, so neither does Jon.

+

A few weeks after Jon gets back, there's a greeting card in his mailbox. There's no return address, but the handwriting is spiky and odd, and the postmark is from California, so Jon can definitely guess at its origins. The logical part of his brain tells him to throw it out unopened, but his stomach flips as he turns the card over in his hands, and Jon's already tearing the envelope open before his mind's completely made up.

The card is over-the-top and weird: _I'm Sorry_ is written in oversized, gold-embossed script and the front is a mess of red roses. Jon's pretty sure it was originally meant to be a sympathy card, which is so like Ryan that Jon laughs out loud at it. Inside, Ryan has signed his name, but hasn't written anything else. Jon allows himself a little hope anyway.

+

That night, Jon picks up his guitar and starts plucking out "Sympathy for the Devil," but his sad attempt at Stones' covers soon turns into something new. Before Ryan, it had been such a long time since he'd written anything that was all his. He'd almost forgotten he could do it at all, but now everything flows and locks into place easily, even as Jon wishes for someone to bounce ideas off of. Clover comes by and rubs against his ankles and meows up at him, which is cute if not exactly what Jon wants.

"Good effort, though," he murmurs, reaching down to scratch under her chin before going back to playing.

+

Jon gets another envelope two days later. This time Ryan's sent him a letter, a real apology written in his spiky script.

_I overreacted. I know we haven't known each other for a long time, but sometimes I get carried away when things don't go the way I hope. I think I was hoping too hard with you, but I really am sorry for not saying goodbye. I miss you._

There are a few paragraphs about California, about Ryan's friend Z's big house and the hiking trails everywhere and how much Ryan likes the beach, even though he's not much of a swimmer. Jon can almost picture Ryan flailing in the water with the sun on his face, and the idea makes him smile.

Jon reads the letter three times.

+

"How's it feel to be home?" Jon asks Tom when they meet up in front of the tux rental place. The little bell on the door jangles as they go inside.

"Tiring," Tom says, but he's grinning brightly as he says it. "Like still being on tour, but ten times busier. You wouldn't happen to want to come over and assemble favors with me, would you?"

Jon shakes his head. "Only if you paid me."

"I'll keep that in mind if I get desperate enough."

The tailor takes their measurements and asks Tom a bunch of questions about the wedding, like how many groomsmen there are and what color the bridesmaids are wearing and if Tom wants the men to match them. At the end, Tom looks even more confused that he usually does, and Jon feels almost sorry for him. Sure, he's nursing half a heartbreak, but at least no one cares if he can color coordinate.

"I promise to throw you one hell of a bachelor party," Jon says, patting Tom's shoulder sympathetically.

+

Ryan sends song lyrics the next day. Well, poetry really, but Jon's matching the words to the music he'd written before he's even finished reading.

Its a beautiful day and Jon's day off, so he takes one of the acoustics to the park and sets up against a tree, strumming and humming to himself, only looking up and laughing when two girls throw a dollar into his guitar case and clap for him.

"I'm not really -- " he starts to say, but they're already walking away and waving, calling "Keep it!" as they go.

A little while later, when the sun's just beginning to dip below the horizon, Jon's mostly satisfied with his -- their -- song and he's playing it once more through when a black dog with the biggest doggie grin comes bounding up to him and settles down right across Jon's bare feet. He barks twice as Jon sings and doesn't move once Jon puts the guitar back down.

"Do you like the music?" Jon asks, and the dog pants at him. He's not wearing a collar and he looks a little scruffy, like the dog and nature had a disagreement and the dog hadn't won. Jon looks around to see if there's anyone around looking for a lost dog, but there's just a couple of evening joggers passing by.

"Well, I guess I can't leave you here alone," Jon says, getting to his feet. The dog butts his head against the back of Jon's hand and trots alongside as Jon walks home. Jon figures one more pet can't hurt.

+

Jon puts up lost dog signs in his neighborhood and around the park, and he posts an ad on Craigslist, but no one calls, so his apartment gets a little bit more crowded -- in a good way, though. The cats had circled the dog warily for about a day, but when Jon came home from work on day two he found all three of them napping together on Jon's bed, even though when he'd left in the morning he'd separated them at opposite ends o the apartment.

"You guys are all smarter than me," he tells them, and he's pretty sure Clover and Dylan exchange satisfied looks at that. It's weird, but having the dog around makes Jon feel the happiest he's been since he was out on the road with Ryan.

He takes the dog to his vet as soon as he can, just to make sure everything's okay. Everything checks out and his doctor tells him that the dog is probably a Schipperke mix.

"Pretty boy," the vet says, scratching behind the dog's ears. "But you didn't put down a name on his paperwork."

"Marley," Jon says instantly, the name spilling from his lips, even though he hadn't given it thought before. "His name's Marley."

Marley barks happily and that's that.

+

Jon goes over to his parents' house for dinner, so they can meet their new granddog. His mom loves Marley right away, of course, and ten minutes after they get there, Jon's dad has already tied a Bears bandana around Marley's neck.

"Aren't you a pretty dog?" Jon says, grinning and scratching behind Marley's ears when he trots over to Jon to show it off.

"I'm glad Marley makes you happy," his mom tells him. "It's nice seeing you smiling again."

"What do you mean?" Jon asks.

"You've just seemed so _sad_ lately, honey."

When Jon gets home that night, there's a postcard waiting for him, a sunshine-y beach scene with 'Someone in Cali's Thinking About You' scrawled across the front. He lets his pets crowd around him when he crawls into bed and puts the postcard over his heart. It's a little stupid, but it makes Jon feel better and he gets the best sleep he's gotten in days.

+

Jon finally writes back to Ryan, a long letter about everything that's going on in his life. He writes about Tom's wedding and finding Marley, about how work is still boring even though he rushed back home to keep his job. He talks about Chicago and how much he loves his city, but also knowing there's a lot out there he's never really seen or experienced. He asks after all of Ryan's friends he met, and tells Ryan he really liked getting to see parts of his life that not too many people knew about. He asks if Ryan how he's liking California. Jon writes about how much he thinks about Ryan and how he wishes they'd met under easier circumstances. He tells Ryan he accepts his apology, and that a song came so easily to him as soon as he read Ryan's words. He writes about how much he wants to play the song so Ryan can hear it, and all about how much he misses Ryan.

Jon doesn't send it.

+

Ryan calls one night while Jon's making dinner. Jon sees his name flash on the phone's screen and his fingers itch to answer it, but he lets it go to voicemail. When the phone flashes with a new message, Jon wonders if he should just delete it without hearing it because he doesn't know if he should let himself listen to Ryan's voice, but of course he listens.

"Hey, it's Ryan," Ryan says, then laughs nervously. "But you probably knew that. I just... I haven't heard from you, and I don't want to give up on contacting you, but I don't want to be a creepy stalker either. I don't want to bother you, Jon, so if you never want to hear from me again, just text me to say so. I promise I'll never bother you again if you do. If you want to talk, call me. I want to hear from you, and I'm so sorry for walking out that day. I should have stayed so we could have... I don't know. Something. Talk to you soon, I hope."

Jon thinks about texting for a split second, but he knows he doesn't want Ryan to stop. He doesn't call back, though, or text anything else because he doesn't know what will come spilling out if they start talking. Soon, maybe. Probably. But just not yet.

+

Tom's bachelor party happens two Fridays before the wedding. Seeing so many people who care about Tom in one place all thanks to Jon's planning really warms Jon's heart. Seeing Tom drunk off his ass and so happy really warms Jon's heart, too, especially when Tom accosts random strangers to tell them about his beautiful wife-to-be.

"When you know, you just know," Tom tells an older guy in a plaid shirt. "When you meet The One, you know what I mean?"

The older guy nods indulgently, and Jon hustles over to gently steer Tom away. "I'm sorry," Jon tells Plaid Shirt. "He's just drunk and really excited about getting married."

"If he wasn't excited, I'd be worried," Plaid Shirt says cheerfully. "Congratulations!" he calls as Jon pulls Tom away and into an empty booth.

"Jonny," Tom says, grinning huge. "You throw the best parties. All of my friends are here and the food is great and there is _so much_ alcohol."

"Was," Jon corrects, but he's smiling, too. "You drank it all."

Tom reaches out and drunkenly pats Jon's cheek. "There's still a little," he says, "and it's all for you! My sad friend Jon needs to be my happy friend Jon again."

"Sad friend Jon?"

Tom nods seriously and nearly falls out of the booth. "You're okay tonight, and that's good because that means you're happy for me, but you've been really sad lately." He sticks out his bottom lip. "And that makes me sad. I know why, too."

"Do you?" Jon asks.

"Yeah, Andy told me," Tom says. "I know that guy from New York came to see you, and now you're sad. Do you need me to beat him up?" He looks really distraught over the idea of having to beat anyone up.

Jon sighs. "No, you don't have to beat anyone up," he says, then reconsiders. "Maybe Andy, who's a bigmouth."

"No, but Jon," Tom says, "you deserve to be as happy as I am. We're gonna make that happen."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Tom says decisively. "We can make anything we want happen if we want it enough."

+

Jon stumbles home after two, tipsy and tired and deep in thought. Almost automatically, his feet carry him into his bedroom, to the drawer in his side table where he's been storing Ryan’s cards and letters.

He bites his lip as he shuffles slowly through the pile, thinking about the things he wishes could happen just by wanting them enough, just like Tom said. His eye keeps getting drawn to Ryan’s return addressed scrawled in the corner of each envelope, and before he knows it he’s on his computer and booking himself a one-way ticket.

+

Jon lands in Los Angeles early the next afternoon, the earliest he could arrange. The morning had been a rush of traffic and saying goodbye to his pets; the cats were their usual nonchalant selves, but Marley whined and tried to run out on Jon's mom just as Jon was leaving. He'd promise to bring them all back something nice and tried to ignore Marley's little face pressed up against his parents' front window.

The light itself had felt at least ten times longer than it should have, Jon's leg nervously jumping with unspent energy until the lady in the seat next to him politely asked him to stop. Jon had, embarrassed, and spent the remainder of the trip squeezing his armrests with a white-knuckled grip and convincing himself he hadn't made a stupid mistake.

Once he lands in L.A., Jon spends another hour in the back of a cab and it's only through biting down on his bottom lip that he manages not to ask the cab driver to turn around and bring him back to LAX. The car eventually pulls up at the address on Ryan's letters, a huge house on a sprawling property high up in the hills, and Jon wonders for a moment if the universe is playing an elaborate joke on him. Still, he pays the cabbie and lets the taxi drive away before approaching the house. There's loud music drifting into the street, a party already in full swing around back.

Jon takes a steadying breath and finds an open gate to the backyard. There's a pool and about ten people swimming or drinking. Everyone seems to be having such a great time that no one takes any notice of Jon and after a second of scanning the guests, Jon spots the back of Ryan's head. It's unmistakably him, of course, his dark hair too long and curling over the collar of his dress shirt, his posture casual with one knee bent as he leans toward a short, pretty blonde girl. Ryan's arm is draped around her shoulders and they're laughing together, sharing a private joke.

Jon's stomach bottoms out. Too late. He should have known that not calling Ryan back after that last message would mean that Ryan might give up on them. Jon can't fault him for that, but also can't help feeling pretty shitty about it. He plans on making his escape before anyone notices him. It doesn't matter that came so far; at least this way Jon can still preserve some of his dignity.

But just as Jon's about to turn around and go back out the way came in, Ryan briefly looks over his shoulder, then does a sharp doubletake, his eyes going wide and mouth dropping open in disbelief.

" _Jon?_ " Ryan says, then rushes toward him, leaving the girl he was talking to looking a little bewildered.

"Hi," Jon says awkwardly. It's hard being this close to Ryan with that same familiar rush of feelings he has every time they're face-to-face. Still, he can't help the way his body sways automatically toward Ryan, having him so close.

"Oh God, Jon, what are you _doing_ here?" Ryan asks, but doesn't let him answer as he pulls Jon into a hug.

Across the yard, Jon hears the blonde girl say, "Jon? Shit, is that the famous Jon Walker?"

+

The blonde girl turns out to be Ryan's friend Z, the person he's been staying with. They met back in New York because she's known Alex since she was a baby and she gave Ryan an open invitation to stay with her because he's "pathetic like a lost puppy." Ryan gives her a look at that, one that turns even more horrified when she tells Jon that's caught up on the whole Jon and Ryan epic romance.

"I didn't really know what to make of you," Z says, grabbing onto Jon's bicep. "I mean, yeah, people fuck up sometimes and Ryan's a major fuck-up in a lot of ways --"

"Hey," Ryan says.

"Sorry, honey, but it's true," Z tells him. "But okay so Ryan's a fuck-up, but he _means well_ , you know? So I knew how much he likes you because you're seriously the only thing he's talked about since he's gotten here, _god_ , and when I heard about how he'd written to you, like, a jillion times trying to apologize, and even sent you some of his writing, but you _never wrote or called_ , I thought you might be a grudge-holding dick and no way good enough for him. But you're _here_!" she concludes, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"I'm glad I passed inspection?" Jon says, feeling a little overwhelmed.

"Oh, so am I," Z says fervently. " _So_ glad."

Z sets Jon up poolside, makes sure he has a drink and Ryan in the chair next to him. The day is beautiful and the party is fun, so some of Jon's nervousness melts away bit by bit. Her friends are mostly musicians and after a little while, two of the guys break out guitars and start making up nonsense songs about being drunk early in the day and the naps they'll need to take later on. Jon laughs and taps along, and keeps sneaking looks at Ryan who's looking back every single time. It's almost as though Ryan expects Jon to up and disappear if he looks away and considering how often that's happened, Jon can understand that.

"Hey," Jon says, "is there somewhere we can go to talk?"

Ryan bites his lip and jerks his head toward the house. "I've got a room in there. Let me just tell Z where we'll be." Ryan jogs across the patio and points to Jon and the house. Z laughs and looks Jon's way, flashing Jon a double thumbs-up, ignoring the way Ryan rolls his eyes. Jon likes her.  
+

Ryan leads Jon into the house, and it's seriously as beautiful inside as it is out.

"Z's parents are loaded," Ryan explains as they walk by a baby grand piano that probably cost twice what Jon's car is worth. "Really nice, though." The idea that Ryan's had this surrounding him and still kept thinking about Jon makes him absurdly proud.

The guest room is a mess, Ryan's stuff strewn everywhere, and that puts Jon instantly at ease. Even though Ryan can be frustrating, having him everywhere calms Jon down in ways he hadn't even thought possible.

Ryan sits on the bed and rubs his palms against his pants. "Why are you here, Jon?"

Jon shrugs his backpack off his shoulder and rifles through it. "When I got all of these," he says, pulling out everything Ryan mailed him, "I wanted to ignore them. You're really a pain in the ass, you know."

Ryan laughs a little sadly. "Yeah, I know."

"I wanted to ignore them, but I also wanted to fuck up my whole life for you, and the saddest thing is I wanted to do both at once, even though that's completely impossible." Jon drops his stuff onto the floor and walks to the bed, standing over Ryan. He's been reciting what he wants to say over and over inside his head, and he knows he probably sounds stupid, but he just needs to get through it. "I can't do either." He kneels down and puts his hands over Ryan's. "There are parts of my life that are boring or lonely, but there are parts that I love. But the thing is I can't stop thinking about you no matter what I do. I want you in my life, and I think you want me in yours." Jon stares up at Ryan, who's biting down on his bottom lip. "You do want that, don't you?" he asks a little desperately.

Ryan nods and turns his hands over, lacing their fingers together.

"Okay, then," Jon says, letting out a sigh of relief. "Let's work this thing out."

"I missed you," Ryan says and bends down. Jon's heart is hammering against his ribs and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears as their mouths meet. The kiss is tentative, but familiar and so good and Jon's suddenly sure he made the right decision.

When they break apart to breathe, Jon presses his forehead to Ryan's and says, "It's not going to be easy."

"Yeah, well," Ryan says as he lies back on the bed, tugging Jon along with him, "I'm kind of stubborn in case you haven't noticed."

+

Jon hopes Ryan doesn't have too many more friends because he's embarrassed himself in front of all the ones he's met. An hour later they head back outside, a little rumpled and a lot happier, and Z cracks up laughing as soon as they step back onto the grass.

"Nice work, Ryan," Z says, pointing to the side of Jon's throat. Jon slaps a hand over the side of his neck and immediately winces because it hurts. He knew he shouldn't have let Ryan suck on his skin for so long, but it felt really good to have Ryan's hands and mouth on him again. Luckily, Ryan has an angry red mark of his own creeping just over the edge of his collar, so at least they're even.

+

The party stretches on late into the evening. Jon slowly gets introduced around and everyone seems friendly and welcoming, but Jon really just has eyes for Ryan. When everything starts mellowing out, the day of people partying hard melting into half-drunk, half-baked people sprawled out over lawn chairs, Ryan and Z take the opportunity to sing together, Ryan making up little tunes while Z sings nonsense lyrics. Jon nods along with her singing, which is husky and sweet, but eventually she gets up to entertain another cluster of her friends.

"Can I see that?" Jon asks, reaching for Ryan's guitar.

Ryan smiles and hands it over.

Jon pulls the guitar into his lap as Ryan drags his chair closer to Jon's. Ryan's legs are long enough that he can stretch over to the foot of Jon's chair and tangle their ankles together.

When Jon starts playing, he keeps his eyes on Ryan's face. Ryan starts out tapping along on the arm of his chair, but he stops suddenly when Jon starts to sing. Jon raises his eyebrows when Ryan lifts his head to stare at him, wide and startled, but Jon makes himself get all the way through it before asking for Ryan's thoughts.

"Well?" Jon says once he's finished, setting the guitar aside.

"That's... I sent you those lyrics." Ryan shakes his head. "I couldn't figure out what to do with them and you just did... _that_."

Jon shrugs. "So you like it?"

"Like it?" Ryan asks. "You wrote me a _song_."

"Really, it was more of a collaboration," Jon says. "It turns out we're pretty good at those." He reaches over and grabs Ryan's hand. "Do you want to come back to Chicago with me? I know going back to a place you've already been isn't your thing, but..."

Ryan squeezes Jon's hand. "When are we leaving?"

+

Jon tries to pay for Ryan's plane ticket, but Ryan rolls his eyes and flat-out refuses.

"Remember, Jon?" Ryan asks. "Have tenants, will travel."

Jon snorts. "Like you make Spencer and Brendon pay normal rent."

"Come on, I have a little money." Ryan threads his fingers through Jon's hair and tugs him close for a quick kiss. "I'll be fine for a little while. I'm willing to try being a lot of things for you, but your charity case isn't one of them."

"Fair enough," Jon says. He leans in for another kiss, but behind them, Z clears her throat; Jon and Ryan both spin around to look at her.

"Since you're stealing Ryan from us, can you make him promise to keep his phone on?" Z asks.

"What happens if I say no?" Jon asks her, smiling.

"I'll make you regret it," Z says. "I know people. _Bad_ people." She smiles sweetly, and Ryan laughs.

"Then I guess I have no choice," Jon says.

"That's the way I like it." She walks over to them and goes up on her tiptoes to kiss Ryan's cheek, repeating the process with Jon. "You keep in touch, too, okay?"

"Do it," Ryan insists. "Z's scary."

Jon's never felt so threatened when being asked to text or call every once in awhile, but he's grinning a mile wide when he says, "Okay."

+

Jon gets home from work a few days after Ryan comes to stay with him and finds Ryan sitting at Jon's desk with Marley's head resting in his lap and a phone propped up on his shoulder. Part-time job listings in Chicago are on Jon's monitor, and Jon really wants to ask, but Ryan's talking so Jon just waves and goes to wait on his bed. He smiles a little at the way Marley's taken right to Ryan. When they got back to Chicago, Ryan quietly asked if he could come in when they'd gone to pick up the pets from Jon's parents, and not only had Jon's parents both greeted Ryan warmly, but Marley attached himself to Ryan's side and refused to let him out of his sight. Jon understands the urge.

"Spencer, I don't think you can get arrested for faking a résumé," Ryan is saying. Jon can hear Spencer talking loudly on the other end, and by the way Ryan's rolling his eyes, he's probably getting a lecture. " _Fine_ , God, I won't lie. We can do it your way."

Jon stifles a laugh.

"You'll still help me, though, right?" Ryan pauses. "Thanks, Spence. Yeah, I think I might be here awhile." He pauses again. "Yeah, he just walked in the door." Ryan covers the phone's mouthpiece with his hand. "Spencer and Brendon say hi," Ryan tells Jon.

"Hi, Spencer and Brendon," Jon says, smiling.

"He says hi," Ryan tells Spencer. "Oh, okay. Call me after you get out of work tomorrow." He has a look of fond exasperation on his face when he ends the call. "Pain in my ass," Ryan mutters under his breath.

"So," Jon says carefully, "you're looking for a job here?"

"Yeah." Ryan shrugs. "I like hanging out with Marley and the cats all day, but it might be nice to get some new scenery while I'm in Chicago." He looks suddenly worried, like Jon might be pissed off that Ryan's tentatively putting down roots here, but Jon's really happy. He knows this is a big thing for Ryan, and if Jon's been setting aside some of his savings toward a roam around the country in a van fund, well, that's something for further down the road anyway. They'll cross that bridge when they come to it, but Jon's now pretty sure they'll be doing that together.

"I think that's a great idea," Jon says truthfully.

"Oh. Good," Ryan says, sounding surprised before his face splits into a grin. "How do you think I'd be as a waiter?"

Jon makes a face. "Terrible."

+

The night before Tom and Danielle's wedding, Empires plays a show in celebration of Danielle's last night of freedom, but from the way Tom scrunches up his nose every time someone says that, Jon's pretty sure it was Sean's idea.

Jon and Ryan open, the first time Jon's been on stage in years. Their set is kind of a mess because Jon hasn't really learned the songs Ryan played alone before and Jon's nerves keep getting to him, but they manage to tell the crowd that they're looking to round out their lineup, and a couple of people even come up to talk to them about it after.

Ryan beams ear-to-ear as he talks to a potential bassist, and Jon feels a rush of hope so fierce that it makes his stomach clench.

"I know that look," says Ryan J, Empires' drummer, coming up to Jon and clapping him on the shoulder. Is Jon really that obvious? "Yep, same thing happened to me," Ryan J goes on and Jon sends him a look of confusion. "We played our first little crappy bar show, and six months later we were recording and going out on the road."

"I remember," Jon says. He'd been at that first crappy bar show, and, God, Tom's band really had been horrible. They'd come a long way together.

"Well, this is me giving you six months," Ryan J says, grinning. "Sometimes when you know, you know. It's a death sentence."

Jon laughs. "That sounds pretty unlikely," he says, but deep down, he hopes it's true.

Tom joins them and tells Ryan J he has to set up. When it's just Tom and Jon, Tom tells him that they played a great show.

"Thanks," Jon says. "It wasn't."

"It was, though," Tom insists. "It's been a long time since I've seen you so happy. Ryan's an okay guy."

Jon nods. Definitely okay. "Are you ready for tomorrow?" Jon asks.

Tom shrugs. "I'm just thinking of it as playing a two-person show with the best person I've ever met."

"I wonder how Danielle would feel if she knew you thought of her as the lead singer of your life," Jon says. He's just kidding, but Tom seems to be giving it serious thought.

"I think she'd think it was awesome." Tom shrugs. "That's why I love her."

Jon smiles. "Good luck."

"Don't need it," Tom says and walks away, congratulating Ryan as he makes his way over to Jon.

"We were awful," Ryan says, but he doesn't seem sad about it at all.

"We'll get better," Jon says and reaches for Ryan's hand, twining their fingers together.

+

The next day is the nicest Saturday in Chicago that Jon can remember, which is awesome because the Tom and Danielle's ceremony is being held in Danielle's family's backyard before the reception. Jon stands up next to Tom, who's practically shaking out of his skin with nerves in spite of his confidence from last night.

"You'll do great," Jon whispers into Tom's ear, and the second Danielle starts walking up the aisle and past their guests, Tom starts grinning and can't look away from her. Jon stops worrying for him right then.

He scans the crowd and spots Ryan sitting toward the back. Even though he's pretty far from where Jon's standing, their eyes meet and Jon smiles when Ryan waves at him awkwardly. Jon knows they don't have everything worked out. He knows that not everything is suddenly perfect and that they'll probably have stupid fights about stupid things, but for the first time in a long time, Jon feels actually, truly happy. He's convinced everything will turn out just fine.

How couldn't he be on a day like today?


End file.
